Amaranthine
by Gift of the Dragons
Summary: Amaranthine – adjective; everlasting, unending. Alchemy has gone forgotten with magic on the rise, but when one certain blond is accidentally kidnapped, old secrets come to light. Warnings inside, spoilers abound. Rated for later chapters.
1. Arc One: Hope

**Edit: Special thanks go out to Consulting Crazy and Gwen Fin Alae for correcting the German used in this chapter.**

Blanket Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter, or any of the works related to or written by their respective authors. I do not own any other franchises or products that may be mentioned throughout either.

A/N: I'm well aware this is overdone. There, I said it. The originality will come, just wait and see. Enjoy the reading, and please review. Don't make me ask, 'cause it's just not nice not to. I've put well over a month's work into Arc One alone. At least tell me what I've done wrong.

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**Warning: One flashback. Some alternate languages.**

**FMA: Takes influence from manga, 2003 anime, Brotherhood and Bluebird's Illusions / Illusions of a Bluebird (for whichever title you're more familiar with.) Can be considered AU.**

**HP: Pre-Book One, Sorcerer's Stone. (Yes, the American version.)**

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**Beginning Of Arc One: Hope**

Hope – noun, verb (with object, without object), idiom; (noun) 1, the feeling that what is wanted or events will turn out for the best; a particular instance of this feeling; grounds in feeling in this instance; 2, a person on which tings are centered; 3, something that is hoped for; (verb with object) 1, to look forward to with desire and/or confidence; 2, to place trust in or rely on; (verb without object) 1, to feel that something desired may happen; 2, _(Archaic)_ to place trust in or rely on; (idiom) 1, 'to hope against hope', to continue to hope, although the outlook does not warrant it; 2, 'not a hope', 'some hope', used ironically to express little confidence in expectations to be fulfilled; 3, 'last hope', the last chance to accomplish a goal

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"_When you have lost hope, you have lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope."_

–_Pittacus Lore, "I Am Number Four"_

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"Und wenn die Elemente sich verbinden, setzten sie Energei in Form von Wärme Wärme frei. Habt ihr Fragen?" _And when__the__elements__bond__, __they release__energy__as__heat__. __Do you have questions__?_

The persistent ringing of a bell sounded throughout the room, dismissing the students. The teacher shrugged, unconcerned with their leaving and instead busied himself with wiping off the whiteboard. In just moments, the room was quiet save for the swath of the eraser. It was set down in moments, its job done. The teacher sighed and sat down in his chair, taking a moment to reminisce about the old days. Back to the time before he had been condemned, but he had accepted this fate then. What did one do with all the time in the world, when they quite literally had _all the time in the world_?

With that question running circles in his mind, the teacher unconsciously pressed one hand to his chest, where he knew _it _was. The thing that was keeping him alive, but he couldn't remove. He'd given up on it a long time ago; the multiple attempts to finally rid himself of it had ended in failure truly proved he was immortal, as did the sporadic attempts of unaware outsiders. Those sessions had been quite bloody, and scared the others quite badly when the person they believed had killed stood back up as though nothing had happened. If he didn't know any better, he would joke about it and say that Death either didn't want him or was too afraid to come get him himself. That would be worth a laugh, if it wasn't the grim truth. He was doomed to live until he finally died on his own, which couldn't come fast enough, and nothing he did would hasten the end, only the actions of others. It was frustrating, but he'd long ago come to accept it.

Eying a stack of test papers warily, he shuffled the sheets together and scrutinized the unfortunate leading paper. He had long ago come to appreciate a certain person's purposeful distancing from required paperwork, but procrastinating didn't get it done or remove it any faster. But even that didn't excuse the mentioned person's tendency to burn said papers, or the students' laziness. The test he had given to the students last week wasn't studied for, if one was entirely judging by the test that was unfortunate enough to have led the stack. Nearly everything was wrong, either written off as inconsequential or with incorrectly chosen or used formulas. The teacher rubbed the bridge of his nose before carefully touching two fingers to one eye, removing the contact there. He blinked at the sudden change in pressure on one side and placed the thin, near-transparent sheet into a container, its twin following shortly after. The lids were clicked shut and a pen was reached for to correct the tests in comfortable silence. Unfortunately, a crack resounded through the room like a gunshot, startling the teacher.

He immediately snapped to attention, grabbing at a desk drawer that he hoped would never have to be opened until he had retired. A gloved hand reached in and pulled out bright metal, glinting cruelly beneath the fluorescent lighting. A thumb drew back the hammer, cocking the gun, its sights swiftly set on the intruder. He didn't like guns, but found out the hard way that one could never be too careful. The cold revolver threateningly flashed as it was moved through the air, never wavering from its doubtless bulls-eye position as the man weaved around the desk, inspecting the perpetrator.

The other man had raised his hands into the air as soon as he saw the weapon, one of which clutched tightly at a thin, wooden stick like a drowning man grasped at a life preserver. He wore a set of robes, passable as a traveling cloak, around his shoulders. It was not so unusual, even for the summer, as the summer temperatures dropped to the high fifties despite the apparent warmth associated with the season. What did set the teacher off was the lack of other warm garments, inappropriate for potentially the potentially chill weather. The hat was also a dead give-away; it was cone-shaped with a wide brim, greatly resembling that of a stereotypical wizard's hat. The notion was only emphasized by the 'wand' in the man's hand. Deciding answers were needed, the teacher began asking questions.

"Warum bist du hier?" _Why are you here?_

The visitor frowned in abashment and nervously fiddled with the stick in their hand. The teacher came closer, the gun barrel never wavering. He stopped at a half-foot's distance, arm carefully wielding the weapon.

"Ich sagte: warum bist du hier?" _I said: why are you here_

The intruder then got a good look at the teacher, having come close enough for his sclera to be visible to the other man. But, more importantly, his irises were also in full view, which startled the stranger. Coming to a conclusion, the intruder yelled something in a different language, the meaning of the words tickling the edge of the teacher's mind, just out of his reach of understanding. Without warning, the perpetrator pointed his stick at the teacher and there was a flash of light. The teacher felt his body stiffen without his permission, as though going through high-speed rigor mortis. The gun fell out of his unresponsive fingers as his body fully froze. The man, moving up from assault and battery, grabbed at the teacher's arm and the world became dark. An invisible force tightened its unseen fingers around the teacher, squeezing until he thought he was going to _pop!_ with the pressure. It wouldn't have been a bad guess to venture that they had somehow entered a black hole. Without warning, the restricting blackness reluctantly gave way to blinding light, and whatever had held the teacher in place was lifted. He took a deep breath, thankful for that after the harsh pressure he had been subjected to. People came into his line of sight, speaking softly and soothingly. Confused, the teacher put his arms out and shook his head, caught by surprise by a man dressed holding a syringe.

Then the restricting darkness gave way to light, and the frozen state the teacher had found himself under was gone, but he was quickly snatched up again by the man before being passed off to people that looked like hospital workers. The medication sent the world spinning, and forced the teacher to succumb to his memories until he awoke.

"_And if I do this, you will bring Alphonse his body back," he repeated, wanting to be entirely certain. Ed would only do this for his brother, and that he wanted to be absolutely sure of. He didn't want any doubts that the other would turn back on his word._

"_I will. If you prefer, I will restore your brother's body first. So long as you keep our agreement, of course." Ed glared at the taller man, his reply slathered with contempt._

"_Of course I will, I keep my promises. All of them."_

_The other man let the comment slide, choosing to instead focus on the ground. Ed followed his gaze and suppressed the urge to speak. An array was lying in wait, one of the most complicated circles he had ever seen. At least two metres in diameter, the array contained symbols Ed couldn't decipher due to their age, their language lost to time. The older alchemist placed his hands down onto the array and red lightning flashed brightly, screaming out at Ed until he had to close his eyes. A sucking sound began, akin to that of water swirling down the drain, but on a much larger scale. Ed opened his eyes a crack and saw his brother's body being reconstructed before his eyes. He had to stop himself from running forward into the array, but as soon as the light died down, he was kneeling over the younger, pulling off his red coat and draping it across his brother's body like a body sheet used in crimes. He pushed out that last thought, checking instead to make sure Al was covered from the shoulders down. He was far too thin, but what was to be expected when one was taken by the Gate five years prior?_

"_I believe that concludes my part of the deal," the alchemist remarked. "I will ensure that your brother is found, in his current condition, by your military contacts."_

_Ed slowly stood up, and with one last look at his younger brother, followed the other man out of the room._

Ed twitched once before forcing his eyes open, gasping for breath and coughing the precious oxygen back up as his body rebelled against itself in the receding throes of the nightmare. When his trachea cleared, he took greedy lungfuls of air as best he could with the restricting garment around his torso. Once he deemed himself calm enough, he took a careful look at the fetters he had been given. A formerly white straightjacket had been forced onto him, likely by the hospital staff. It was now stained a light grey with his panic-induced sweat, not that it mattered. He just needed a little give and he would be sailing out of here. The sound of someone speaking broke his concentration, and out of curiosity, he looked over to whoever had spoken.

Pale yellow eyes greeted his own golden ones and Ed found himself flinching away from their gaze, the color dredging up too-fresh memories. A reassuring hand found his shoulder, barely felt through the excessive layers of cloth. He closed his eyes and forced back the apprehension, reminding himself this was not Alphonse. Never one to run away from a challenge, Ed lifted his eyes and looked to the stranger, this time taking in their features.

The other 'patient' was a man, features aged beyond his years. Stress had likely taken its toll on him, progressing the wearing of time to make him appear to be beyond his years, adding lines to his face and lightning his hair to grey long before he had reached his twilight years. His companion, who had been silent so far, was closer to the man's apparent age, her auburn hair graying at the roots. Smaller lines marred her face, the beginnings of age, and her hair was kept up in a strict bun, not a strand out of place. She had an aura that reminded Ed of Teacher.

Deciding then to speak, the older woman said something in her language, the words dancing on the edge of Ed's understanding but not lending any form of aid. The man responded in a lighthearted tone, brisk yet comfortable. Ed almost ground his teeth in frustration as his mind failed to decipher whatever they were speaking. Deciding to break into their conversation, he spoke brusquely and without hesitation.

"Warum bin ich hier?" _Why am I here?_

"Weil sie glauben du bist was du nicht bist." _Because they believe you are what you aren't._ With some degree of surprise, Ed perked up at the more-familiar tongue, not having expected another speaker at all. "Weißt du wo du bist?" the strange man asked. _Do you know where you are?_

"Nein." _No._

"Sie sind in einem magischen Krankenhaus." _You are in a Wizarding Hospital._

Ed couldn't stop himself; he made a face at the barest mention of magic. He had come across other magic users some time ago, but they hadn't been very receptive to his presence, at least not in any way that was beneficial to him. He preferred all his body parts where they were, thank you. This time around wasn't much better, with him being knocked out and tied up by the staff.

"Woher kommen sie?" _Where are you from?_

He toyed with the idea of lying for a moment, before deciding a half-truth was the best answer. There was no doubt no one had heard of Amestris, anyways. And didn't the phrase go 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'? This was a good situation to test that advice.

"München, Deutschland." _Munich, Germany. _It wasn't the truth, not exactly, but it wasn't a lie either. Ed had been in Germany when he was kidnapped, regardless of where he had been born. "Warum bin ich hier?" he repeated. _Why am I here?_

The other man seemed unsure, either of his answer or how he should answer. Settling with a conciliatory gesture, he eventually gave an answer.

"Sie glauben, dass Sie ein Werwolf sind. Wegen Ihrer Augen." _They believe you are a werewolf. Because of your eyes._

The blond exhaled slowly, rankled but masking it well. Now it made sense; the idiot of a man believed him to be a werewolf, so he brought him here. The other man must have been a werewolf as well, which would explain the similarly colored irises. They weren't a perfect match, of course; the other man's were paler, like that of electrum, than of a purer gold. And Ed's own changes wouldn't have helped either.

He still looked much the same; still... not as freakishly tall as other people, but taller than he had been before. His eyes and hair were still the same; he still braided it or left it in a loose ponytail if he was in a hurry. There were smaller, less noticeable changes. One of which called for the contacts which he had been wearing before being assaulted by the man in his classroom.

Since agreeing to Father's deal, Ed had been dealt with some difficulties in laying low. His eye colour, once uncommon, had become near non-existent and he found it to best to hide their oddity. He was also forced to move around quite a bit, as he didn't change in appearance. Time had stopped working, so to speak. Not exactly what occurred, but it was one way to explain his apparent lack of aging over the many years he had lived.

"Idioten, alle miteinander," Ed muttered in disdain. _Idiots, the lot of them. _" Ich bin kein Werwolf." _I am_ _not_ _a werewolf._

Dismissing the conversation, Ed started to struggle against the straightjacket again. A gloved finger brushed against the ends of frayed fabric and he held his breath, gently probing the tear. It was just large enough that he could force one hand out, which was pressed against his still-bound hand. They came together again and the restricting fabric immediately began to deconstruct, breaking down at the elemental level and entering the air. Ignoring the two others in the room, Ed rolled his shoulders to relieve the cramp that had settled there during the short stint. Rubbing his left wrist, he noted the stiffness in his right joints. Deciding to take care of it later, he pushed himself off the bed and was immediately faced with two primed wands pointed at his chest in a deceptively comical manner.

"Was?" _What?_

"Wie hast du das gemacht?" _How did you do that?_ Ed cocked his head in confusion and the man sighed in exasperation. "Was ich meine ist, wie haben Sie zauberstablose Magie angewendet?" _What I mean, is: how did you do wandless magic?_ Ed chuckled to himself and found himself doing the unexpected.

"Es ist selbstverständlich keine Zauberei. Es ist Alchemie." _It isn't magic, of course. It is alchemy._

The woman asked something, leaving the blond on the cusp of understanding. Her tone and gestures gave more away than he needed, despite the language barrier. From her crossed arms to the set line of her mouth, she was insistent on whatever point she was making. The man was quite feebly arguing, unable to meet her stony gaze. He moved his arms weakly, voice reflecting his feeble position. Both still sheathed their wands... somewhere out of his line of sight and looked to Ed, the man hesitant.

"Mein Freund lehrt an einer magischen Schule. Sie möchte Ihnen dort einen Platz zum unterrichten anbieten."_My friend here teaches at a magic school. She wants me to offer you a teaching position there._

Ed crossed his arms stubbornly; he didn't appreciate being taken from a perfectly good life only to be indebted to a new one. Regardless of how long he would have stayed in Munich. He'd had experience with magic before, but it was for a comparatively short amount of time, and it was of a different caliber than what he had been faced with here. Plus the wielder had been much more sympathetic towards him as a being, rather than a tool, as these two were coming across.

"Und warum sollte ich?" _And why should I?_

The man shrugged in response, unwilling to take the matter further. This was clearly not his idea, and he didn't support it either. Whether it was out of lack of trust for the blond, or for a general unwillingness to listen to others, Ed didn't care. At least he sort of had someone on his side. The man was then absorbed into another quick dispute with the woman by a scathing comment, neither taking more than an eye off their unwilling visitor at any time. Despite his admittance, he was still a patient of the hospital, and the staff would hold them responsible if he attempted escape, more so if he succeeded.

"Sie scheinen nicht die Art von Person zu sein, die an Reichtum interessiert ist." _You do not appear to be the kind of person interested in wealth._ The man looked at Ed expectantly, who hesitantly nodded. "Sind Sie an Wissen interessiert? Die Schule verfügt über die größte Bibliothek der gesamten Zaubererwelt." _Are you interested in knowledge? The school has the largest library in all of the Wizarding World._

From the way the other man's face eased ever so slightly, Ed knew that he knew he had struck gold. Maybe at the mention of a library, his eyes had lit up like they used to at the prospect of knowledge. The mere thought of the library was enough to make his fingers twitch with excitement. Yet, there was also size to consider. It would be unusual, but not impossible, for the library to potentially consist of two books and still be the largest existing library, as sad as the sentence sounded. But this wasn't a chance that could simply be passed up. But first, there was something that needed to be asked.

"Welche Schule würde jemals ein Monster wie mich wollen?" _What school would ever want a monster like me?_

The man was clearly upset by the question, a hurt look spread across his features that gave Ed a pang of longing to see his brother again. The man, oblivious to the sudden pain the blond felt, relayed it to the woman so she could hear it for herself. She gave a slow shake of her head, murmuring low on her breath.

"Du bist kein Monster. Niemand ist." _You're not a monster. Nobody is._

The answer wasn't quite what he wanted to hear, but it was enough. More questions would only spark their curiosity further and that was never good for him. He preferred to keep his secrets hidden; they were too painful to relive any time soon.

"Fein. Informieren Sie Ihren Scgulleiter, dass er einen neuen Lehrer hat." _Fine. Tell your Headmaster he has a new teacher._ After the man passed the message and the woman nodded curtly, Ed asked, "Wie werde ich unterrichten? Ich spreche Ihre Sprache nicht." _How will I teach? I do not speak your language._

"Dann müssen wie sie Ihnen beibringen." _Then we have to teach you._

The aging young man, who Ed later learned was named Remus Lupin, patiently taught Ed the tricky nuances of the English language. The student picked it up with seemingly surprising speed, unexpected by the werewolf, but typical to the Amestrian. There was a reason, after all, that he had commonly been accredited as a 'child genius' back in the Amestrian military. The woman, whose name was Minerva McGonagall, and a future colleague, routinely stopped by every day at noon to check on his progress, and was no less astounded than Remus had been.

The days passed fairly quickly and, in less than a week, Ed was released from the hospital as there was clearly nothing wrong with him.

Clearly.

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Tell me what you think.

_Next chapter: Tergiversate_


	2. Tergiversate

A/N: Thanks go out to everyone that reviewed: Adin Terim, Tiger Box, Guest, Guest, Burning Tortoise, fullmetal, Falcon Punch, Sentio Infermum, Elspeth. Replies to guest reviews are at the bottom.

**Warning: General confusion. Mentions of science.**

** FMA: Influenced by several sources. Can be considered AU.**

** HP: Pre-Book One, the Sorcerer's Stone.**

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**Chapter 2: Tergiversate**

Tergiversate – verb (used without object); 1, to repeatedly change one's attitude, opinions, or respect to a given subject; equivocate; 2, to turn renegade; 3, to depart

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_"Separation penetrates the disappearing person like a pigment and steeps him in gentle radiance."  
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_–Boy George_

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It wasn't that difficult to recall: a scratched, busted old whiteboard on one wall, flanked on the right by an equally battered desk with a fabric-covered spinning chair (how he loved that thing) with four rows of eight desks, all facing the front of the room. In the back were tables, specially treated to handle dangerous chemicals. And how could one forget the blast shield, for the particularly dangerous experiments where people just couldn't be trusted, even when said people were older than he looked.

Despite the others' insistence to not return to Munich, Ed found that he couldn't _not_ go. He still had to hand in his resignation, for one thing, and he wanted to see the place one more time. To know that he hadn't lost his mind, that all of this was real. It would be late enough in Germany that no one but the staff would still be there, only janitors and teachers catching up on their work. The janitorial staff avoided his room like it was filled with the plague, having learned early on that he didn't like to be disturbed. Due to their avoidance, his classroom was only cleaned on Sunday afternoons, the only guaranteed time he was never there.

The fear that the janitors held for him stemmed from one member, who had been cleaning the room while he was out for a conference, threw away a very important paper he had been using. The man, deciding that the Amestrian scrawl was the gobbledygook of chemistry, threw it away without another thought. At least, not until Ed had found him, one hour, forty-five minutes and thirty-six seconds later and threatened to throw him into the next decade if he pulled another stunt like that, and made him go through all the garbage to find the paper he had thrown away.

With a derisive chuckle, Ed let the darkness wash over him. He disappeared without a trace, one moment there, the next gone.

Perhaps the most scientific piece of magic in the history of science-related magic, Apparition and Disapparition were the closest things to clear cut science, or perhaps science-fiction. The theory was sound in magical and scientific terms. On one hand, witches and wizards were in one place, and with some concentration, they were somewhere else. That's all most knew and cared about, although some did dabble into the magic theory behind it. On the other hand, the scientific end, Apparition and Disapparition –which were essentially the same process, it only depended if they were going away or to you– followed the three steps of alchemy: understanding, deconstruction and reconstruction. Better yet, the energy involved didn't need to know what the human body was composed of; it just acted as it naturally did.

Rather, the understanding involved stemmed from concentration. Knowing where one wanted to go would direct the energy to break down the body at such a fast rate they were unable to feel themselves being deconstructed. But the question arises, 'Where does the energy come from?' The area from which a person was Apparating from would be temporarily vacated of its magical energy, being the supply for the deconstruction. If no energy was present, then some would be borrowed from the user and anyone or anything around them, and would use the natural sugars most organisms ran on. Supporting this theory were the reports of fatigue following numerous Apparitions, if one judged by the book Ed had found some weeks prior.

Finally, following the deconstruction of the body, it would be reconstructed in another area. The only question Ed had left was whether the molecules were transported there, or if similar molecules were reconstructed in an essential carbon copy of the user in the target area, which would be them but not them, if that made sense. There was also the matter of a person's soul, but he wasn't going to delve into that. He had enough of the Gate to last him eternity. The same could be said of the Wizarding World as well.

With such understanding of how magical teleporting worked, despite the oddity of that sentence, one would expect for Ed to find himself in his old classroom. Instead, he found nothing. There were walls, of course, and ceiling lights, and a tiled floor below, and looking over his shoulder, there were the tables found in every science room in the building, but there were no desks. There was a blank emptiness in the middle of the room; even the whiteboard was gone, the paint a sickly shade of white where the fixture had once resided. It was just a touch paler than the rest of the wall, as the lights were off and the blinds shut tighter than plastic wrap. Ed turned to where he knew the door was, and as he thought, light was spilling out of the window, lighting up the room enough that he could see. Weaving between the desks, he stopped in front of the door; he looked back and shuddered, unnerved by the sheer emptiness of the familiar room.

The Headmaster must have sent someone to get his things, Ed decided. It didn't explain why the board was gone, but it wasn't as though it mattered. What did matter was that his personal effects were missing from the desk. He clearly remembered leaving the contact case on top of the desk and next to it had been his bag. He refused to get a briefcase- if he ever went into politics he would. But he was a teacher, so that meant no briefcase. Yes, it wouldn't have been so unusual for Dumbledore to have sent someone here. It was more likely than someone having stolen them, for who sneaks into any school, in the middle of the night to steal a teacher's belongings? That reeked of a B-list action movie, and Ed didn't have any secret documents in the school anymore, so the answer was no one. The only thing that remotely resembled secret documents was his journals, and that one paper the janitor had thrown out. He had been in a hurry and hadn't had time to find the current journal, so... The point was that he learned his lesson.

Shaking his head at the sudden turn in thoughts, but nonetheless reassured by the line of thinking, the blond opened the door and stepped out into the hall, testing the other half of the knob as he checked the halls. No one else was there, and it was locked on the outside end. Letting the door catch on his hand, he eased the door shut with a soft click. Most of the lights were off, maybe every one in three shining dimly in a vain attempt to light the encroaching darkness. In minutes, not having met any other life forms on his way there, Ed was in the office, standing in front of the unfortunate secretary's desk.

Unfortunate because the person sitting at the chair looked to be about twenty years old and looked like a poster-boy for alcoholism. He had dark circles under his eyes and a slight yellow pallor to his skin that suggested either drug use or serious malnutrition, lack of sleep and illness. If Ed had known this kid was here before, he would have passed by without a word; instead, he silently stood in front of the desk, wondering how he had gotten this job and if he had enough brain cells left in his skull to realize there was a person waiting for him.

The poster-boy, finally, lifted his head and stared at Ed with half-lidded eyes, face vacuous as the void. Slightly disturbed by such lacuna, He felt himself leaning away from the bizarre secretary. The kid must have been appointed while he was gone; there was no secretary when he had been... _taken_ from the school previously, as the former worker had recently learned of a parent's terminal illness and requested leave so she could spend time with them during their final days. The cutout made an odd grunting noise and tapped at a sign taped to the left side of the desk; it screamed that identification was required upon entry.

Perhaps the staff did notice his disappearance, then. Ed fished out a wallet and flashed his driver's license at the kid. It wasn't a duplicate, although some of the documents used to obtain it were. After so many years, he had contacts in the underground that he called upon occasionally, usually when moving or going into hiding. Most of those contacts had passed on, but there were enough still alive and kicking that he could settle for some time. The poster-boy sluggishly inspected the card, blearily looking over the dates and names written on it.

After some agonizingly slow minutes, he waved a hand at Ed, who shoved the license back into his wallet and into his pocket. He casually stepped down the short adjoining hall to his former boss' office, the chancellor. Said man was sitting behind his own desk, with stacks upon stacks of paperwork dominating its surface. For an uncomfortable moment, Ed remembered another desk with a far less dutiful-to-his-paperwork man sitting behind it, always procrastinating and ready to light it all on fire.

Tearing himself out of nostalgia, Ed plopped himself down into a seat left out in front of the desk, intended for visitors. Unsurprisingly, he went unnoticed by the other man; the stacks were high enough that not many people could be seen over the sheaves of wood pulp. After nearly ten minutes of paper shuffling, muttering, the click and odd noise when one runs a pen over wood, Ed stood and pushed aside two stacks of paper, so the chancellor could clearly see the blond.

The other man looked up in slight surprise, though when he laid eyes on his former staff member, his face fell into a vague frown. Letting out a growl of frustration, Ed spun back to the door, storming out and all the way back to his former classroom, still as dark as he had left it. He stopped with one hand on the door, having noticed a detail that had escaped him before.

There was once a bronze-coloured plaque that bore his name set into the middle of the door. It was more for the students' sakes than it was for his or anyone else's pride, but the plaque was missing now. Ed lightly brushed his fingers against the lighter grain, ignoring the chipped pit-like holes that indicated there were once screws set into the wood. Dumbledore, it would seem, had been very thorough and kept to his word when he said Ed would have 'as good as disappeared'. With a sigh, Ed stood erect again and vanished, the air whistling slightly in his wake.

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_Next chapter: Inception_ (NOT THE MOVIE!)

Guest (1): Thank you, I appreciate it. And I will.

Guest (2): Terse as in the chapter length? Don't worry, this will get longer in later chapters. Just not this one.

fullmetal: I'm glad you do, and I 3 your review.

Falcon Punch: Can you make a list of those you like? And I'll upload every two weeks or when I get enough reviews. Captain Falcon reference?

Elspeth: Thanks, I just wanted to do something original. Plus it puts Ed in quite the position, because it makes him owe Dumbledore for getting him out of St. Mungo's. Arc One is before and during Sorcerer's Stone.


	3. Inception

**Edit: Thanks to Tiger Box for catching a mistake and to Okami Endless for telling me the text had become blocky.**

A/N: Here's the tricky part. One thing that was a must for me was that Ed must have a German accent while speaking. It was just something I felt had to be done for this fic. A guide can be found below for deciphering what is known as a German accent. Thanks go out to: Son Luna, Tiger Box, Guest, The OMG Cat, alchemists19.

**Your Guide to the German accent:**

'W' and 'Wh' become 'V', though only when heard. If a word has two letters, or becomes a word with two letters, the 'V' is doubled.  
Ex. Wicked - Vicked / Write - Write / Why - Vyy

'Th' will be either a 'Z' or 'S' depending on pronunciation. 'Z' is more common. Also doubles letters; see above.  
Ex. This, that - Zis, zat / Thought, things - Sought, sings

'F' is _always_ replaced with 'V'; if followed by a vowel which is the last letter of the word, the vowel is dropped.  
Ex. Graft - Gravt / Fife - Viv

'Sp' and 'St' become 'Shp' and 'Sht', respectively. (Don't read that out loud.) Words that contain 'sh' become 'sch', including 'shp' and 'sht'.  
Ex. Spin - Shpin - Schpin / Street - Shtreet - Schtreet / Shop - Schop

'-ing' endings will become '-ink' but only for verbs.  
Ex. Jumping - Jumpink / Sink - Sink

**Warning: Contains use of a German accent (guide above). Mentions of science.**

** FMA: Influenced by several sources. Can be considered AU.**

** HP: During Book One, the Sorcerer's Stone. (Chapter 4)**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Inception**

Inception – noun; 1, the beginning, start, the earliest stage of some process, institution; 2, (_British_), the act of graduating or earning a degree; the graduation ceremony; commencement; 3, (in science fiction), the act of instilling an idea into someone's mind be entering his or her dreams

* * *

_"I want to try it to see what it's like and see what my stuff looks like when I take it from inception to completion."  
_

_–Charlie Kaufman_

* * *

It wasn't uncommon, back when Amestris still stood, to find the Elric brothers sitting in the library and quietly reading. Then, it had seemed, that nothing was wrong with the world, if they could simply lose themselves in the paper and ink written before them and absorb the trove of information beheld around them. And habits died hard; it would have been no surprise for anyone that had known Ed that long, long time ago to see him now, legs curled up against him and a book in one hand, the other with the end of one finger resting lightly on the edge of the page, ready to flip at less than a moment's notice. To add to the image, he still donned the familiar scarlet jacket, emblazoned with the Flamel, his teacher's symbol while she had still lived; his hair was braided, now reaching his mid-back; the crisp, white gloves to hide the old scars; and he still wore those elevator boots that added a clean three inches to his height, making him seem taller than he was.

The blond was reading so adamantly now because he was almost desperately searching for the source of magic. He had hints, theories, regarding an internal energy that magic users could call upon to perform their spells. If such a theory was true, then it was likely that a wand amplified the natural energy being used, which suggested that a bare amount was required to perform most spells. He couldn't help but hope that such theories were true, because if they weren't, then Equivalent Exchange would have been broken. If that was the case, then it would have been so _easy_ to have bypassed the Truth by using magic rather than alchemy to have brought Al back, to have brought their mother back.

But all he had were theories, and they would have to make due until he could test it for certain. And all of this was a far cry from his earlier experience with magic, but similar enough that he could accept it existed. Magic, after all, was simply a name, a title. It could have easily been called something else, like peanut butter (though why anyone would name a force or energy after a sandwich spread was beyond him.)

When Dumbledore entered the library, Ed hadn't noticed at all, far too absorbed in his research to bother listening for intruders. The tap on his shoulder caused him to jump, knocking the chair over as he did so. The book was shut and held threateningly high in one hand, ready to come down with the wrath of justice. Ed blinked as his eyes focused on the Headmaster and he lowered his hand sheepishly, realizing how stupid he must have looked. Unfazed by the alchemist's semi-violent reaction, Dumbledore calmly waited for him to relax so as not to be beaned with a book, which was placed on the table behind its wielder.

"Edward, I must make a request of you."

Ed sat himself in the seat, his legs straddling the back of the chair. Crossing his arms on top of the chair-back, he rested his chin in between his arms and stared up with unnerving aureate, cattish eyes, giving the appearance of a curious chilled. Except for those eyes, those knowing, world-weary eyes. The Headmaster was left unperturbed by the sight and had to mentally shake himself to remember why he had come. Ed let the corner of his mouth rise; payback for the old man startling him was a sweet, if fleeting, revenge.

"Hagrid has come down with a particularly nasty illness and isn't feeling quite up to par, and is unable to perform a certain favor I had asked of him. If you are willing, I would ask for you to do it in his stead." He paused, but seeing no reaction from the blond, he continued. "One of our students is not replying to our confirmation letters, despite the numerous attempts we have made to give him our offer of enrollment."

"So you villed his house viz letters?"

Ed's English had quickly improved from when he had begun learning, but stubbornly retained an accent despite the other teachers' various attempts to remove it. The accent was the remaining traces of an old identity he refused to loose, something that he didn't wish to give up. It didn't mean he couldn't speak English clearly, it only implied he refused to.

"One could say that," Dumbledore answered, amusement coloring his voice. "We have located where he has gone; his uncle had been rather frantic in his attempts to escape the Wizarding World."

With a flick of his wrist, Dumbledore slid several papers into his hand, which were taken by Ed. He opened the one with his name on it, finding that it contained everything he needed to know: directions to where the uncle had fled, directions to Diagon Alley and how to enter, where they would buy the kid's supplies, a key, which was apparently to the kid's family vault, and information for whatever questions he might be asked. Ed folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket with the enrollment letter he had been handed.

"I must request that you do as little magic as possible while in his presence; he has not seen the extent of the magical world, and I would prefer it stay that way for as long as it can last." The request was odd, as Ed didn't have a wand to perform any magic with.

"How vould I enter Diagon Alley, as I do not own a vand."

"That would be a problem." Dumbledore hummed in thought. "Perhaps you should ask one of the patrons for assistance. They would likely be more than happy to help. Why not buy yourself a wand while you are there? It solves simple problems such as entering Diagon Alley, and I do not think you would argue that having as much protection as one can is entirely wrong. Appearances are good to keep up, and it would be rather odd for a teacher at a magic school to not own a wand.

"There is also one last thing I must ask of you: please stop by Gringotts Bank while you are in Diagon Alley. You will require money to make your purchases and there is a package there that I would like for you to pick up. Just give the goblins there this letter."

He handed over the official looking letter, and with a sweep of his robes, Dumbledore left the alchemist with his orders. Ed stood on one leg, swung the other around the seat of the chair so he could stand, and shoved the last letter in his pocket, grumbling to himself.

"Vondervul, now I have to vind zis kid..."

Ed was admittedly wary of the seemingly kind old man. He knew, he just knew, that the other man had seen and done things unspeakable; when one lives long enough it becomes an absolute truth rather than a secret shame. And he knew that the Headmaster had called up some of his contacts –maybe a blackmail list– to have him discharged from the hospital, no questions asked. He was clever, that was for sure, as he had successfully maneuvered Ed into his debt. It was infuriating how little Ed had any say in the matter, but sometimes, waiting it out was the best solution. If he stuck this out long enough, then he was certain that he could get away from these people and fall off the grid. It wasn't so hard; he'd done it before and could surely do it again. All he needed was time.

Time wasn't something he could utilize right now. There were still formalities to be seen to, hoops to jump through. Ed pulled a pair of glasses off of the table, uncrossing the arms and sliding the frame onto his face. Wizards were surprisingly out of touch with the modern world, and as Dumbledore wouldn't let his new teacher off the school grounds without an escort, or in this case, specific orders, he hadn't been able to retrieve his old contacts or get another set. In a random spur of the moment, the Headmaster decided to gift the blond with a pair of sunglasses, specially magicked for Ed's _special_ needs. That is to say, it wonderfully hid his unusual nature.

Speaking of his nature, it allowed for him to break a number of long standing rules at Hogwarts, which sent Dumbledore into frenzy when he checked the school's wards, searching with scrutinizing precaution for any loopholes or weakening barriers that may have exploited. Ed immediately chalked it up to, as it had been said, his changed being, which Dumbledore had hesitantly concurred after spending nearly three hours, testing the castle's ancient spells for any susceptibilities. In fact, upon returning from Munich, he had accidentally Apparated into the Headmaster's office, entirely unaware that he was defying the school's archaic legislations.

Taking advantage of such a useful convenience, Ed Disapparated to the location that the instructions had detailed and found himself in the middle of the storm. The rock-of-an-island was very, very slippery from the driving rain falling from the weeping sky and the gray water beating against the crumbling edges if stone in anger. He cursed, which was lost to the sound before it could reach his ears, and tried to step forward. Immediately, he slipped, immediately-soaked clothing conspiring against him and pulled him down, nearly breaking his nose on the soaked boulder before him. He caught himself on one hand which nearly buckled under the sudden weight, the glove dirtied by the rock below; but he pushed off of it and regained his balance, nowhere nearer to the barely-visible cabin just off in the distance.

The curtain of rain made it difficult to ascertain the distance between him and the shelter. Another step sent him sprawling, the craggy surface and creeping algae underfoot doing nothing to impede his unwilling slide. A hand caught the door, and he crashed into the wall, his turned face flat against the soaked wood. With a slurp, Ed pulled his face off the cabin and tentatively shifted to his left. When he didn't lose his footing, he sidled closer to the door, taking baby steps until he stood in front of it, one hand still holding on the handle like a life preserver.

He knocked once, hard on the door. When no response was received, he pounded harder. Secretly, he hoped that they truly hadn't heard him the first time and were not being pig-headed idiots. Though, judging by what Dumbledore had written about the kid's uncle, the latter was far more likely. He raised his fist to knock one more time when a shout came from inside, its volume more of a whisper through the wood and rain.

"Who's there? I'm warning you- I'm armed!"

"Yup, definitely the kid's uncle. Ed only hesitated for the barest of seconds before bringing his fist down on the door handle. It cracked and shuddered, a loud snap accompanying the cacophony as the lock broke. He eased the door open and shut it behind him, waving slightly open from the broken handle. A surreptitious boot slid it back into place as its owner inspected the dim, shadowed room. A pudgy man stood two feet from him, wielding a rifle incorrectly; a thin woman was standing by a doorway, looking as though she had just gotten up; a fat kid, who appeared to have fallen off of a moth-eaten couch, was picking himself up and staring over the lip of the furniture; and a skinny boy, wearing thickly taped glasses was standing by the wall, a thin blanket pooled at his feet. Ed recognized the thin kid from the meagre description Dumbledore had provided, and had a name to match with the face: Harry Potter.

"I demand that you leave at once!" the uncle was now shouting, angry that the disheveled cabin he had rented had been so easily breached by some unknown stranger. The rifle was lifted up, betraying the man's lack of knowledge regarding firearms; the stock was far too close to his face, and if shot, the barrel would break his teeth without hesitation, not that Ed cared. "You're breaking and entering–"

"Schut up," the blond casually answered.

Deciding to scare them a little bit, he grinned evilly as he clapped his hands together and grasped the end of the rifle. It immediately responded by twisting in on itself, highlighted by the blue lightning that accompanied the sudden change. By the time Ed let go, the muzzle of the gun was facing its owner, having bent on itself like rubber. The uncle gave an odd squeak, pulling the gun out of the alchemist's grasp and up against his chest as though it would save the weapon from its useless state.

"You," Ed said, redirecting his attention to the skinny kid, "you're Harry Potter?"

He nodded quickly, as though afraid of receiving similar treatment to what the gun had experienced. With the show he had just been treated to, Ed wasn't very surprised.

"I'm supposed to give you zis."

Ed reached into his coat and pulled out the Hogwarts letter, the parchment miraculously dry despite the storm outside and Ed's mishaps on the rock. He moved closer to the kid, who, with trembling fingers, took the envelope and opened it, eyes quickly scanning its contents. He frowned and looked up, face a myriad of confusion.

"What do they mean, 'they await my owl'?"

"Voops."

He had forgotten to bring one with him to send a letter back to Dumbledore. Ah well, it would probably have run –or would it be flown– away because of all the rain.

"Zey vant a response, to know iv you're comink to Hogvarts, the school. I'll have to send it later, seeing as how I vorgot to bring an owl..."

He let a sheepish smile crawl onto his face, if only to ease the kid who was still shuddering like a leaf in a storm. Ed wasn't faring so much better, barely suppressing the urge to shiver in his wet clothing, which was dripping water onto the planks below. He moved to clap his hands together again when the kid spoke up.

"And magic isn't real," he added, sounding almost forlorn.

"Sure it is, kid. How do you zink I got here? Magic."

"Is that how you twisted Uncle Vernon's rifle?"

Ed looked over at the uncle, who was standing with his arms outstretched in front of his wife and son, the latter of which looked all to happy to allow his father to be hurt with whatever the alchemist was planning to throw at them first. The rifle sat abandoned in its now useless state on the floor, muzzle facing the door. The blond shook his head and found the kid staring at him.

"No," he said softly. "Zat was somezink else. Somezink... older zan magic."

The kid looked as though he wanted to press the issue, but he backed off of the issue and changed the subject, for the blonde's sake.

"Why would they want me? I'm no good at anything."

"You can use magic. Zat's all zey need to know." The boy still looked incredulous and Ed sighed, running one gloved hand through his hair, catching in his braid. Reaching behind him, he unwound the tie and straightened his hair, speaking as his hands methodically moved on their own.

"Has anyzing schtrange happened to you zat couldn't be easily explained away?" The answer was immediate; he nodded affirmatively almost immediately. "Zat vould have been magic."

"He's not going."

The uncle spoke then, apparently working up enough courage to oppose Ed. He snorted in derision as he finished tying off the braid, the band refusing to stretch properly in its wet state. It still snapped together with a satisfying crack as he pulled his hands away, pointing one finger at Vernon.

"Zat's not vor you to decide, sorry. You are a Muggle, vat zee vizards call a nonmagic person. You have no say in zee matter, sir, and it vould be appreciated iv you kept quiet in matters you do not understand."

"I understand enough," the overweight man growled, but Ed cut him off.

"I understand as vell, Mister Dursley. You have been mischtreatink your nephew and have not been veedink him vell. I am sure zat zee Child Protection Agency vould love to get zeir hands on zis case."

A bald-faced threat, no doubt, but it had no substance behind it. Dumbledore had said nothing about informing the authorities about the kid's precarious position, but if he could just frighten the man enough, then perhaps they could get this over with faster. He had no desire to stay here longer than necessary, and at best, would only have to stay here for the night. All the shops in Diagon Alley were likely closed at this hour.

Vernon paled slightly, though Ed couldn't decipher whether it was at the notion that he may have been mistreating his nephew or if he would be facing the wrath of the government if he didn't comply. Or it may have been the thought that wizards had been spying on him for years and knew what went on in his household. Harry, who had been quiet until then, interrupted with a question.

"Did my parents know magic?"

Vernon took the opportunity to back away from the pair, retreating into the other room with his son and wife. Ed watched them leave with a neutral expression before sticking a hand in his pocket, drawing out the letter Dumbledore gave him for a situation like this.

"I didn't know your parents," he informed, "but zee Headmaschter gave me a letter vor just zis." He looked down at the letter and squinted in the dim light. "Bos ov zem, it vould seem, attended Hogvarts. And, uh, zey vere killed by a dark vizard."

"Killed?" Harry's voice had risen by a couple of octaves, face turning white in fear. "My parents died in a car crash."

"No, It says here zat zey vere killed. Right here." He stabbed the paper with one finger for emphasis. "Zee guy zat killed zem, Moldyschorts or somezink, tried to kill you as vell but vailed. So now you're vamous, I guess. No, vait, his name vas Voldemort." He silently mocked the man's name, but continued reading the words written. "He vas a dark vizard, an evil man, I guess, zat vanted to become very powervul by takink over zee magical vorld and killink everyone zat got in his vay. Dumbledore, zee Headmaschter of Hogvarts, vas too powervul and Voldemort couldn't kill him; he vent avter your parents instead. I'll admit I don't know too much about zis myslev, as I vasn't zere ven it all happened."

"What happened to Voldemort?" The question was greeted with a shrug. Harry looked down at his hands and quietly made up his mind. "I'll go to the school. It can't be any worse than here, can it?"

With that decision, Ed picked up the moldy scrap called a blanket off the floor and took the one left at the foot of the couch before laying them both on the floor in a heap. He clapped his hands together and pressed them to the sheets. With a flare of alchemical light, a thicker, snowy white blanket was left behind, mold-free. He shoved it into Harry's hands before going to the moth-eaten couch and doing the same to it, repairing it of years of wear and tear. He directed Harry to the couch, telling him to sleep there for the night. With one last transmutation, he turned his hands on himself and a cloud of steam enveloped his vision, drying him instantly. His voice floated through the haze that refused to be dissipated.

"We're goink to go shoppink in zee mornink, to get your books and all ov zat."

The fog lethargically left, leaving the air warmer than it had before. Slipping off his jacket, Ed lowered himself to the floor and covered himself with the material. He almost instantly fell asleep, breath evening as he succumbed to the darkness of the mind.

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_Next chapter: Solace_

Guest: Alright, I see. I know what you mean, and people change. I've given Ed time to accept that and he's forgiven Hohenheim for not being there. And this is somewhat AU for a reason, considering how I've essentially shredded the manga/Brotherhood...

The OMG Cat: I hope you still like it after this chapter.


	4. Solace

**Edit: Thanks to dracomancer6491 for the 'Ss' addition.**

A/N: Thanks go out to: tigerwar, Derples (Nice name,) Consulting Crazy, Son Luna, SupaCrazee, Takei Daloui.  
I apologize for any confusion I may have caused. To clarify things about the character removal: I have removed a character from the plot, but not the storyline. That means that they still exist, will exist or have existed, depending on their current status of life. They will still make or have made an impact, just not in the way that they should. To also keep things easier, the character does appear in this Arc, a.k.a. the Sorcerer's Stone.

**Your Guide to the German accent:**

'W' and 'Wh' become 'V', though only when heard. If a word has two letters, or becomes a word with two letters, the 'V' is doubled.  
Ex. Wicked - Vicked / Write - Write / Why - Vyy

'Th' will be either a 'Z' or 'S' depending on pronunciation. 'Z' is more common. Also doubles letters; see above.  
Ex. This, that - Zis, zat / Thought, things - Sought, sings

'F' is _always_ replaced with 'V'; if followed by a vowel which is the last letter of the word, the vowel is dropped.  
Ex. Graft - Gravt / Fife - Viv

'Sp' and 'St' become 'Shp' and 'Sht', respectively. (Don't read that out loud.) Words that contain 'sh' become 'sch', including 'shp' and 'sht'.  
Ex. Spin - Shpin - Schpin / Street - Shtreet - Schtreet / Shop - Schop

'-ing' endings will become '-ink' but only for verbs.  
Ex. Jumping - Jumpink / Sink - Sink

'Ss' should be pronounced as 'Sch'. Spelling remains unchanged.

**Warning: Contains use of a German accent. Mentions of smoking. One flashback. Science.**

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**Chapter 4: Solace**

Solace – noun; 1, comfort in sorrow, alleviation of distress or discomfort; 2, something that gives comfort, consolation, or relief; (verb, used with object); 1, to comfort console or cheer; 2, to alleviate or relieve

* * *

_Whence comes Solace? Not from seeing_

_What is suffering, doing, being,_

_Not from noting Life's conditions_

_Nor from heeding Time's monitions;_

_But in cleaving to the Dream,_

_And in gazing at the gleam_

_Whereby grey things golden seem._

_This I do this heyday, holding_

_Shadows as but lights unfolding_

_As no specious show this moment_

_With its iris-hued embowment;_

_But as nothing other than_

_Part of a benignant plan;_

_Proof that Earth was made for man.  
_

_–Thomas Hardy, "On A Fine Morning" in Poems of the Past and the Present (1901)_

* * *

A ray of sunlight shone through Ed's closed eyelids, burning his shielded retinas with a dark vengeance. One arm was flung over his face, though far too late; he was already awake and experience told him lying there wouldn't bring him back to sleep. A tapping coming from the source of the light only conspired to awaken him further, and with a growl, the cloth covering his body was thrown onto the floor, with him unwillingly standing. A glare directed at the window softened as he took in the avian awaiting his presence, for him to relieve it of its burden. He stalked over to the window, sparing Harry a glance. He was sitting up on the couch, rubbing his eyes blearily as he yawned. The window was thrown in, and with the smell of sea salt, the owl fluttered in and settled itself on Ed's shoulder without hesitation. The bird was ignored after its letter was pulled off its outstretched leg, even when it pressed its feathery face against his cheek, crooning much like a cat. The letter was from Dumbledore, who seemed to remember that Ed needed to send a confirmation for Harry's attendance. Enclosed with the latter was a pen. He scrawled out a quick message.

To: Dumbledore

He said he'd go, we'll be leaving soon.

Ed

The letter was rolled back up and retied to the owl's leg. He instructed it back to Dumbledore, and with the soft brush of its tawny feathers, it took off back into the morning sky. Ed looked over at Harry, who had watched the blond with open interest. He sheepishly looked away when he saw him look over.

"Do you have any vood around here?"

"W-what?" He was clearly startled by the question and had some difficulty translating. "Food? No, no we don't." This was met with a sigh.

"Zen I suppose zat ve'll eat avter vee get ovv zis rock. Today is your birsday?" Ed inquired, slipping his jacket onto his shoulders and looking at the letter again.

"Yeah," Harry said, voice soft and low.

"Happy birsday, Harry. It probably doesn't mean much," Ed amended, shutting the window, "but vould you like to choose vat vee have vor breakvast? Vatever you vant, ve'll have."

"Seriously?" The question was asked a little too zealously, leaving Ed to wonder how accurate he had been with his threat the night before.

"Uh-huh. Ve'll have to leave now, so vee can make it to zee schore in time vor breakvast.

"Mister?" The blond wryly smiled; no one had called him that in a long time.

"Call me Ed; mister is too vormal."

"Ed? How will we pay for my school supplies? I don't have any money."

Ed opened the door and held it for the kid, moving outside after him onto the now-dry rock. It was a dirty, slate grey under the forget-me-not sky, the ocean a calm gray-green; small pools of water were soaking here and there in its smallest of crevices. Ed avoided those spots, inspecting the edge of the crag for a boat. He found one docked with quite a bit of water floating at the bottom.

"Your parents levt you money, in zee vizard's bank. It's taken care ov, so you don't need to vorry."

He climbed into the boat, avoiding the puddle. Harry got in after him, also carefully dodging the water. Ed lifted the idling oars and stroked, pushing off from the rock. The sound of the waves chopping the boat dominated the air for several minutes before Harry addressed another thought that had been running through his mind.

"Ed, how did you get here? There was no other boat at the..."

"Rock?" he offered. "I kind of teleported there. Viz magic, but it's called Apparatink. Don't even zink about doink it yourselv. You need to be licensed, and I have heard it is quite painvul iv pervormed incorrectly."

"What is the bank?" Ed flashed him a look. "You mentioned a bank, when I asked about affording school supplies."

"Zee bank is a bank, I don't zink it can be anyzing but. Iv you mean the bank's name, it is called Gringotts. Iv you meant who ran zee bank, zat vould be goblins, who seem to be good keepers ov zee place; no one has successvully robbed the bank as ov yet."

"Why?"

"Zere are supposedly dragons guardink some ov zee old vaults, many have traps on zem, and most are so var underground zat a person could lose zemselves vorever down zere."

The boat fell silent once more as Harry tried to absorb all this new information. He was finding it a little that difficult that he, of all people, would be chosen as a wizard. But something was nagging at his mind, something Ed had said the night before.

"When you twisted Uncle Vernon's gun," Harry slowly said, trying to get his thoughts out right, "you said that wasn't magic."

"I did."

"Then what did you do?"

Ed paused in his rowing, letting the boat drift along across the calm sea. He twisted his head around to look behind him, checking for how much farther the shore was. They'd long ago lost sight of the little rock with the cabin perched atop.

"Then what did you do?"

"Somezink older. You'll learn more about it at Hogvarts."

He wasn't sure why he was avoiding the question. Something inside him just didn't want to discuss alchemy with the kid. Perhaps he felt... No, and the idea was immediately dismissed. The boy's sudden change of subject helped cement the decision.

"Why haven't I heard of magic until yesterday?"

"Your aunt and uncle were probably keepink it vrom you. And magic is kept under wraps because vizards like to zink zat everyone vould vant magic solutions to zeir problems." Ed shook his head in disdain before continuing. "Zat's vyy zere is a Minischtry ov Magic."

"There's a Ministry?"

"Isn't zat vat I just said? Zey oversee everyzink, makes sure zee system is runnink smoosly. Vizards have laws, too. Zee Minischtry vases over everysink zat vizards do."

"Where are you from?" Harry blurted. He covered his mouth, realizing what he had said.

Ed grunted and said, "Germany."

The boat suddenly bumped into a wall. Ed looked around and found that they were at the docks. He carefully stood up and helped the kid up as well, allowing him to board the dock before following. Some passerby stared at the pair, although Ed wasn't entirely sure why. Neither of them looked entirely out of place; perhaps it was the way Harry was staring at everything, like he had lived under a rock his entire life.

The situation in the station was no different, but that was far more likely due to Ed's cussing in German. English pounds were different from the euro, and he could read the numbers quite well on the bills, but he kept tripping up with the price differences. Two tickets cost about three euros, but two pounds and sixty-one pence. Still muttering to himself, Ed got their tickets and got on the train to London, Harry bearing a bemused smile as the blond fell asleep in his seat. He took the time to shake the blond awake as the train pulled to a screeching halt. He stretched and stood, absently rubbing his face.

"Do you schtill have your letters?" he asked on the way out, passing through the crowd.

"Yeah. Can you really buy all this in London?"

"Only iv you know vere to go."

Soon they were on the streets, following the directions Dumbledore had left to find some bar called the Leaky Cauldron. The place was fairly dingy, squished between a bookstore and a record shop, and the newer buildings gave the pub a rundown air, one that made Ed hesitate to enter. He didn't want to bring the kid in there, but if Dumbledore said this was the place, well, he'd have to trust him.

"Zere it is, zee Leaky Cauldron."

He strolled into the threshold, disappearing from his charge's sight, perplexing the boy greatly. Seeing his confusion, Ed stepped out of the doorway and waved at Harry, who came over and followed him in. Entering the bar, they found that the interior was as shabby as the exterior. The lighting was fairly dim, the patrons quiet and reclusive. Several old women were sitting in one corner, playing cards. One had a long pipe jutting out of her mouth, sending up small clouds of smoke as she puffed.

Two men sat at the barstools, one fairly pale and twitching with enough force that the amber liquid he was trying to down kept sloshing in its glass; the other was short, his size misconstrued by the lime green top hat he was sporting atop his head. The bartender, who was standing behind the counter with a rag and shot glass in hand, was listening to the short man gossip about something a colleague had done at work. He was fairly old, bald as a walnut and sporting as many teeth.

Ed led Harry to the counter and rapped the edge softly with his knuckles, disrupting the two wizards' conversation. The man with the top hat smiled politely and turned to the newcomers.

"Hello, did you need something?"

"Could you open the alleyway for us? We need to get school supplies."

"Hogwarts, eh? I remember my own days there," he recalled fondly. "If you don't mind me asking, what are your names? I am Dedalus Diggle." He stuck one hand out for a handshake.

"Harry Potter," the kid answered, taking Diggle's hand in his own.

The other man paused, a smile frozen on his face. Ed shifted nervously; the expression on the other's face was no where near natural. Whatever it was that froze him like that seemed to have dissipated, for Diggle suddenly slid off his barstool and, showing off his less-than-average height, entered the back alley the pub was connected to, talking to the soon-to-be first year the entire, thankfully short, way.

"It is an honour to have seen you again, Mr. Potter," he reiterated for the fifth time, tapping a brick on the wall as he did so.

The stone shrank away as Diggle left without the two noticing. It reformed itself into an archway, leaving Harry enchanted and Ed skeptical, until he saw that the edges of the newly-formed hole had thickened considerably with the brick's absence. Satisfied with the observation, he scanned their surroundings, ignoring how the hole had closed up behind them.

A cauldron shop gleamed brightly form beneath the sun, showing off their wares and damaging people's eyes with the stacks of shaped metal strategically placed outside the shop. A sign bore their cauldron types, found in all sizes: copper, brass, pewter, silver, gold, self-stirring and collapsible. Ed didn't see why anyone would need a golden cauldron, but supposed it had something to with the acidity or baseness of the potions being mixed. An apothecary shop held barrels of ingredients against the walls, signs labeling each barrel's contents. A quick peek inside one showed slimy green organs, stewing in pea-green broth; the sign above claimed them to be dragon's livers, with 'Eighteen Sickles' chalked beneath in thick letters.

Another shop, next to the apothecary, heralded 'Eeylops Owl Emporium', from which an orchestra of soft hums, hoots and coos pervaded. The windowless building had a large standard painted on the side, from which one could browse the species available without entering. There were apparently Tawny, Screech, Barns, Browns and Snowy waiting, while Powerful, Hawks and Barking Owls were crossed off. Some kids around Harry's age were crowding a shop opposite the Owl Emporium, ogling over a new broom model that had been released. Ed could see over their heads a broom mounted on a stand, with a calling card propped up against it. A squiggle of script presumably bore its name, but was indecipherable due to the distance between them.

Dozens of other shops selling everything from robes and clothes, to maps and telescopes, tricks and treats were littered among the rest of the buildings. Parchments, quills, globes, bottles,, everything one could think of that was even remotely associated with magic could be found here.

Everything except... alchemy.

Forcing himself off that depressing train of thought, Ed stopped and _actually_ looked at their surroundings. Despite its misleading name, Diagon Alley was not simply an alley. It was a series of interconnecting lanes, which originated from a fairly large plaza, flanked on its northern side with a huge building. Ed cast his eyes upon it, appreciating the architectural work. The marble walls were a pure, snowy white, allowing for it to stand out among the grey sky and dominantly blue, smoky buildings. A series of steps led to a small pavilion, ringed with Grecian columns; a pair of well polished bronze doors completed the outfit. Despite the bank's clear importance among the wizarding community, few ascended upon its treads. A sentinel was clearly outlined against the alabaster facades.

"Zis, Harry, is Gringotts."

Harry was far too busy drinking in the building's appearance, much like Ed had done a moment ago. He allowed himself to be gently tugged closer, only breaking out of his spell when his foot caught on the first step and his face tried to say hello to the ground. The younger quickly forced himself off the ground, face burning slightly in embarrassment. Upon reaching the head of the set, the sentinel, a pointedly faced being a half-foot shorter than Harry, which Ed recognized as a goblin, checked them over once, eyes roving for concealed weapons. Deeming them fit, the doors began to swing open of their own accord. Ed inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, and the goblin brought his attention back the public. Passing through the bronze doors, a silver pair greeted them with their famous inscription.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Another pair of goblins, waiting in the small impasse, led them through the silver doors, which opened for their masters as the bronze pair did. A marble hall awaited beyond the silver doors, impossibly large for the building's size outside the hall. Two wings lay to the left and right, dotted with sets of golden doors through which patrons were led through by more goblins. A long counter, sitting directly in front of the silver doors, held a number of clerks and accountants who were performing a number of tasks: writing in their ledgers, weighing numerous coins in precise scales, examining jewels through magically enchanted loupes. After ensuring that Harry was still following, Ed made for the counter, for a free goblin who waited expectantly for another visitor.

"Good morning," the goblin greeted, his voice smooth and deep.

"Good mornink to you as vell," Ed responded. "Vee have come to take some money out ov Mr. Harry Potter's save." He brought out the key, which was quickly inspected. "I also have a letter vrom Provessor Dumbledore, auzorizink me to retrieve a package vrom vault seven hundred and zirteen." The letter soon followed the key, which was inspected as well.

"I see," the goblin said placidly. He peered up at Ed, asking, "Would you mind removing your glasses for a moment? You appear to match the description of a young man we have been asked to identify."

Ed stiffened and scowled. He didn't want to, and feared for a moment that the goblins knew who, _what_ he was. But he could always be wrong, and assumptions were aberrations. So, with great reluctance, Ed slid his sunglasses down, leaning forward slightly, so that Harry was effectively blocked from seeing his eyes. If the goblin thought anything of the blonde's unusual appearance, he said nothing of it.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir. You match the description to the letter, and will be brought to vault number five hundred and forty-three. I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!"

Another goblin came at the call and led them to a door on the left side of the hall after Ed was given back Dumbledore's letter. The key was passed on to the goblin, who seemed to know exactly where to go. The door opened into a stone passage, torches lining the walls with their magical fire. After some minutes of walking, the passage opened up to a deep chasm, in which a rail line stood, empty. Griphook whistled loudly, the shrill call rebounding off the darkness. The sound of metal rolling against metal reached their ears, and a small metal cart stopped in front of them like an obedient dog. The three of them climbed in and they were off.

"What's in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry yelled.

"Don't know, and even iv I did, I probably couldn't tell you," Ed half-shouted over the roar of the wind.

The cart began to twist through a series of passages, clearly unaided by Griphook, who didn't seem offset by the wind at all. A sudden burst of fire burned his retinas like a corona, and he guessed that they had passed by a dragon. He felt Harry twist around in his seat as he covered his eyes, great blue and green spots dancing across his vision uncomfortably. There was a hollow whistle to their right, and when Ed brought himself to look, found an underground lake peeking through the rock, with spines growing like natural buildings from the rock.

"Hey Ed, what's the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite?"

"A schtalactite comes vrom the ceiling, and a schtalagmite vrom the ground."

Griphook disregarded the conversation, only moving to place a hand on the cart which suddenly stopped. The sudden change in speed should have thrown them out into the abyss, but they stayed still. Griphook extricated himself first, and Ed followed; both were fine with the sudden change. Harry fell out, catching himself on his hands. He wavered slightly when he stood but soon got over the sudden vertigo as Griphook unlocked the door, the vault inside releasing a billowing cloud of thick green gas. Interested in the quickly dispersing substance, Ed moved over to ask the goblin a few questions while Harry got whatever he needed.

"Vyy zee smoke?"

Griphook was clearly unused to being asked anything; he started when the blond spoke and hesitated to answer.

"It is an enchantment that was placed on the vault. It paralyzes intruders once they breathe it in."

"And how does it not avvect zee owner, zee people viz zem or you?"

"Goblins are immune to most precautions taken to protect the wealth stored in Gringotts. Inserting the correct key, or taking the correct steps to safely open a vault, will neutralize the gas so it becomes harmless."

"Very ingenious," Ed complimented. "And I have no doubt zat you have to vorry about goblins betrayink the bank. Very loyal, your kind is. It is a shame zere are not many ozers like zat."

Griphook, now baffled by the visitor, clamped his mouth shut so as not to further confuse himself. He had no interests in human affairs, and the same was true of humans with goblin's problems. They may cooperate, yes, but neither truly was concerned for the other. And this anomaly here was something that could be gone; the faster they got out of here, the sooner Griphook could forget this encounter. Luckily for Griphook, Harry had exited the vault then, a bulging pouch stuffed with coins.

"You are vinisched? Zee gold coins are Galleons, zee silver are Sickles and the bronze are Knuts." They resumed their positions in the cart, not daunting Ed in the least. "Seventeen Sickles make one Galleon, and tventy-nine Knuts vor a Sickle."

The cart took off again, without warning, tunneling deeper into the earth. The air became chill, nipping at any exposed skin, their breath ghosting around their faces. Ed unconsciously pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Before long, the cart stopped again and Griphook was the first out, pulling an iridescent orb out of one pocket. The other two followed, curious. The orb was white and perfectly smooth, the light reflecting off its surface and leaving behind rainbows of color. In short, it appeared to be an oversized pearl. Ed wanted to ask about it, but Griphook had pushed the orb into an indent set into the vault door, and it was swallowed into the stone. The doors swung open, revealing, much as it had in Harry's family vault, treasure. Ed could see a second level from where he stood, lined with bookshelves full to the brim with papers and bindings.

"Vault number five hundred and forty-three," Griphook announced.

"Voo is zee owner ov zis vault?" Ed inquired.

"A Van Hohenheim, sir."

The blonde's face darkened immediately upon hearing that name. He had forgiven the man before, but the past seemed doomed to repeat itself. It would have been easier to forgive him if the old man had told them where he was, but as always, he had disappeared without a trace. Right when they needed him the most.

"Please take us to vault seven hundred and zirteen."

Griphook placed a hand on the open door, and it shut itself, the orb smoothly removing itself from the stone like it was liquid. He pocketed it and returned to the cart, where Harry had already seated himself. Once Ed had reentered, the cart plunged further down into the tunnels, frost visible on the walls of rock. The fog their breath produced became thicker, whiter, as they moved deeper into the tunnels. As they passed over a ravine, Ed had to pull Harry back into the cart, lest he fall down and die. It was some time, longer than either ride had been, before they stopped. The first thing he noticed were the doors and their peculiarity: there were no markings on its surface. No keyhole or indentation of any kind. Griphook caressed the surface of one door with one, long finger, and it melted beneath his touch.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they would be sucked into the vault," Griphook idly commented.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's in there?" Harry inquired.

"Once about every ten years," the goblin answered with a malicious grin.

The alchemist, having already entered the vault, heard the conversation echo in the vastly empty chamber. The only piece in the room was a little brown package, lying down on the floor. As he neared it, Ed felt, for lack of a better description, odd. It was giving off a foreboding aura of sorts, and the feeling didn't quite click until he was holding the package in his hands. Once he did make the connection though, he had to resist ripping the package apart right then and there. He instead settled for glaring at the piece and angrily shoving it into his pocket, marching out of the vault stiffly.

The rest of the trip through Gringotts was unremarkable, except for Griphook giving back Harry's key. He didn't want it, but also couldn't exactly trust an eleven year old with it, and made the decision to give it to Dumbledore. After he chewed the old man out for having _that. _As they stepped outside, two things came to mind: one, the caverns must be pretty dark if the sunlight hurt that much; and two, Ed had completely forgotten about breakfast.

"I vorgot about breakvast."

"It's all right, you don't need to get us anything," Harry quickly said.

"Nonsense; I promised you breakvast, and breakvast ve'll get! Unless you vould prever somezink else."

"We could get ice cream," Harry offered, spotting an ice cream shop not so far away.

"Iv zat's vat you vant, zen zat's vat you'll get," Ed conceded, uncomfortable with the thought of dairy treats. "You'll have to excuse me, zough, from eatink."

Harry looked up at Ed, concerned, but didn't speak as they entered the food court, moving between umbrella topped tables and thee other patrons before entering the store. A small ding accompanied them, the bell set up to the entrance softly exclaiming. Ed paid for the food after Harry ordered, understanding the wizard money with a little more ease. It was just a touch and go matter, he supposed.

"Vyy don't vee get you your robes virst?" Ed suggested, after the chocolate and raspberry cone topped with nuts had disappeared.

The younger agreed and they found the robe shop, proclaiming Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions on a sign above the entrance. The owner, a short, slightly squat woman greeted them with a smile on her face. Her mauve robes wore, on her right side in neat print, Madame Malkin.

"You are from Hogwarts, dear?" she asked, seeing Harry. "It's quite all right, there's another young man being fitted now."

Madame Malkin brought the two of them to the back of her shop, past the displays and assorted rainbow racks of fabric to a line of footstools and mirrors placed down, more for the Madame's use than for her customers. One stool was occupied by a boy, looking about Harry's age, with light blonde hair and a pointed face that were somewhat reminiscent of the goblins in Gringotts. Harry stepped onto the footstool where Madame Malkin pulled a set of robes over his head, proceeding to pin it to the correct length.

"Hello," the platinum blond drawled. "Hogwarts too? My father's at the shop next door buying books, while my mother's looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms; I can't see why the first years can't have one at the school. Maybe I'll bully father into buying me one and I'll sneak it in."

Ed let a disapproving look fall onto his face, clearly looking at the other blond. The kid didn't notice at all, his attention fixed on Harry.

"Do you have your own broom?" Harry shook his head. "Play Quidditch at all?" Another shake. "I do- Father says that it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house. Do you know what house you'll be in? But no one really knows until they get there, do they? I know I'll be in Slytherin; my entire family has been. Just imagine being in Hufflepuff; I'd leave if I was placed with those duffers."

Ed laughed at that, not because it was funny, but because it showed off the kid's shallowness. He jumped and the witch fitting him accidentally stabbed him with a needle. A scowl wormed its way onto his face for a second, but was gone when he looked at Ed through a mirror, unable to turn far enough to face him directly.

"Who're you?"

"None ov your business," he coolly replied. The blond boy discreetly sneered at Ed before looking back to Harry.

"Where are your parents?"

"They died."

"Oh, sorry," the other said remorselessly. "But they were our kind, right?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"They just shouldn't let the other sort in; they're not the same, not having been brought up to know our ways. Can you imagine some of them have never heard of letters until they got their letter? They should just keep it to the old families."

"You're finished," the other witch said with relief. The blond hopped down without a glance to her.

"I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," he said, walking out.

"Duffers, indeed," the witch growled to herself. "I was in Hufflepuff myself, and see how I turned out!"

She left, heading back to the front of the shop. Ed moved around so Harry could see him, having preferred to stay out of the malicious blonde's line of sight.

"I'm sorry for not havink told you more about magic. I just, vorgot, I suppose. Now, vere to schtart? Quidditch is a schport zat is played on vlyink brooms, viz seven players. Vour ov zem play viz a large ball and pass it betveen zem like in a soccer match. Two ozers protect zeir teammates vrom zee ozer team, and one tries to end zee match by catching a special ball. Zere's more to it zan zat, but we can talk about it later iv you vant.

"Huvvlepuvv and Slyzerin are two ov vour ov zee school houses at Hogvarts, zee ozer two being Gryvvindor and Ravenclaw. And zee ozers, vell..." He trailed off uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Zere is some controversy viz zee vizards, iv zey schould allow vor Muggleborns, vitches and vizards viz Muggle parents, to attend magic schools. It is allowed at Hogvarts, but some of zee old vamilies don't like it. Zee kid is an idiot."

"Finished, dear," Madame Malkin informed them, a slight smile on her face.

Harry fished out some coins for the clothes and hopped down from the stool. They moved onto the parchment shop, where they inspected the different quills and inks. Noticing that Harry seemed somewhat down, he suggested a bottle of colour changing ink. They moved onto the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, which sold schoolbooks and more. Ed had to force himself to keep from touching too many of the books; they were all so tempting that he would spend the rest of the day reading the shelves. Harry gave in with less of a struggle, and Ed had to literally drag Harry out of the store when he found him reading a book about simple curses and jinxes.

"I wanted to figure out how to jinx Dudley," Harry explained as they left the shop.

"As much as zat sounds like a good idea, zat's illegal. You're only supposed to use to use magic around Muggles in very special circumstances."

Harry wasn't allowed a golden cauldron either, but it was more of a joke than the deadly serious matter of cursing his cousin. After buying a set of scales and a collapsible telescope, they visited the Apothecary. The shop was more than interesting enough to make up for its rank smell, which was comparable to rotten eggs and cabbages. Barrels of slimy, squishy organics were lined up against the walls and clustered together in groups of four elsewhere; jars filled with soft powders and roots sat on shelves set on the walls, above the barrels of slime; small bundles of feathers, strung fangs and snarled claws commingled from their hangings on the ceiling, hovering over people's heads and the odd barrel. Ed ordered the kid's ingredients for him while the boy looked around, taking an interest in the silvery unicorn horns and the scoops of miniature, glittery black beetles' eyes.

"Just the wand left," Harry said as they left with bags of ingredients and a pair of dragon's hide gloves.

"Bevore vee get your vand, do you vant a pet? It is your birsday, avter all."

"N-no, it's fine," Harry protested, his face dusted with red out of embarrassment.

"How about an owl? Zey're very usevul," Ed suggested, ignoring Harry's protests.

Not twenty minutes later, they could be found leaving Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark inside but its occupants bore bright eyes which betrayed their owners' intelligence and the sounds of flickering and rustling as they studied the newcomers. Harry held a cage in one hand, its occupant with her head tucked beneath one wing. The snowy owl's new owner was stammering his thanks, which was continually waved off as the act was nothing special.

The wand shop, which both had been anticipating, was dreary and woefully neglected, fulfilling its proclaimed age in terms of appearance. A crooked sign bore Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay in the display window, almost reverently set upon a faded cushion, its colour lost to age. The door groaned in protest as it was opened, setting off a bell with a tinkle, warily revealing the space inside, at first glance alarmingly small. The room was dominated by large shelves with boxes carefully placed atop the shelves. A desk and the single chair inside were also covered with boxes; a look up at the ceiling revealed, almost comically so, holes in the ceiling with yet more boxes peeking out. Ed could only guess as to how they got in there. With the exception of the ceiling-bound boxes, everything was neat and orderly to a perfectionist's levels. He wondered, for a moment, if the claim of the shop's age was true; he shivered as he realized just how many people had come into the store in the same manner as they had, and would continue to do so for a long time to come.

"Good afternoon," a velvety soft voice welcomed.

Harry visibly jumped at the voice as the owner stepped out from between the shelves, eyes shimmering like pale pools of water. Not grey, like one would think, but metallic silver. The thought brought a wry smile to Ed's face, but went unnoticed in the dusky light of the shop.

"H-hello," Harry said, unnerved by the man's silent appearance.

"Yes, Harry Potter," the man, presumably Ollivander, said. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon. You have your mother's eyes, so green. It seems as she was here only yesterday, buying herself a wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow. Worked well for charms. Your father preferred mahogany, eleven inches, a little more power and suited for transfiguration. I say your father favored it, but it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

While he spoke, Ollivander moved closer to Harry, at a steady enough pace that suggested he would stop. But he didn't, coming close enough that he and Harry were nearly nose to nose, only supported by the fact that they were nearly the same height. Ed moved away slightly, away from the shopkeeper, managing to fly under the radar. Ollivander reached out with one pale finger, brushing lightly at Harry's forehead.

"And that's where..." The hand fell and he pulled back, shame filling his voice. "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and one half inches. Yew. Very powerful, very powerful indeed. If I'd known what it was set out to do..."

The old man made an odd noise and shook his head in dismay. He caught sight of Ed and immediately refocused on the alchemist. Ed stiffened as their gazes locked, expecting more weirdness to come spouting from the wand maker.

"I haven't seen you before; did you perhaps attend a different shop?"

"Er, no. I've actually come to purchase a vand as vell," he quickly explained.

"Is this your first?"

"It vill be."

"Hmm," Ollivander hummed neutrally. "Mr. Potter, let me see," he trailed off, pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of a pocket. "Hold out your wand arm."

Unsure of himself, Harry obediently offered his right arm. The tape measure set to work, unaided by Ollivander. It measured Harry in what seemed to be every way possible, twisting around his head, from his shoulder to the end of his finger, from knee to armpit and more.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core made of a powerful magical substance," Ollivander said, flitting around the shop and taking boxes down. "We now use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, phoenixes or dragons are the same. And you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand."

"Vat do you mean 'now vee use'?"

"My father had an affinity for Kneazle whiskers, Kelpie mane hairs and the like. Not as beneficial in terms of quality and far more temperamental to wizards. When this shop was first founded, most wands crafted were set with veela hairs, thestral hairs, and on occasion werewolf fur for their cores. Such wands are rare nowadays, of course. Very powerful, but rare, especially as not many were made then." Spotting the still moving tape measure, Ollivander tutted. "That will do," he said. The tape measure fell to the floor as though stunned.

"Try this one; beech wood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible."

He took the wand and with a grimace, waved it. It was snatched out of his hand and replaced with another.

"Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy." The wand didn't move more than two inches before being rejected as well. "Try ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy."

As with its predecessors, the ebony wand was rejected as well. Ollivander kept at it eagerly, pulling at boxes off thee shelves with enthusiasm. With every wand that was passed up, Ollivander's mood buoyed; if a person didn't know better, they might have thought that the old man had some kind of psychedelic drug that he'd been using.

"A tricky customer? Not to worry, we'll find your perfect match somewhere around here. Ah, let's try an unusual combination. Holly and phoenix, even inches, nice and supple." The wand was pressed into his hand and Harry paused before lifting it upwards. He then slashed it down, like one would with a blade, leaving a trail of red and golden sparks in its wake. Their resplendent lights danced across the walls as Ollivander cried "Oh bravo! Yes, yes indeed, very good. Well, well, well... How curious..."

Ed lost track of the conversation there, his attention fixed on the lone wand in the display case. He cocked his head slightly like a curious bird. He couldn't help it, not really. Why had it been placed out here, and not in a box with the rest of the wands?

"That wand was one of the first made in this shop," Ollivander said, his sepulchral tone breaking through the haze. "Vine, thirteen and three-fourths inches, unyielding. Thestral tail hair core. It is a cursed wand, mister...?"

"Elric," Ed supplied. Despite hearing such dismal news, he still felt compelled to pick the wand up. He only refrained, unwilling to offend the wand maker. "It is cursed?"  
"It is. It accepts no master and will bow down to none. It is vicious, and has killed its previous wielder. A bad match, if you will."

The urge was too great now. Ed gave into the urge and reached out, fingers grasping around the wand handle. Ollivander hissed through his teeth in warning, but went unheeded.

"Maybe zee vand doesn't need a maschter, but a companion."

Ed swept the wand lazily through the air, in a horizontal motion. The wand boxes slowly lifted into the air from the haphazardous mess they were left in and replaced themselves into their positions before the search for Harry's wand had begun. Some of the boxes that had been knocked down from the ceiling returned to their little cubby holes, fitting snugly into the woodwork above their heads. Once all the boxes had stopped moving, Ed held the wand close and inspected it, as though hoping to find some sort of answer engraved within the wood.

"It would seem that you are right, Mr. Elric," Ollivander eventually said, grinding himself out of his stupor. "Please, take the wand; you have relieved me of a great burden today."

Ed thanked him and got Harry's things. He took one last glance around the shop and saw Ollivander looking down almost sadly at the now bare cushion. He shivered as he left the shop. Harry looked up questioningly but the alchemist didn't comment on it. With all of Harry's school supplies bought, they headed back for the Leaky Cauldron, now empty of its patrons. On the Underground, people stared at them with their oddly shaped packages and the still sleeping owl. Ed tapped Harry on the shoulder, just outside of Paddington station. The kid had been quiet since they left Ollivander's.

"Vee still have tome to get somezink to eat, iv you vant."

Ed bought them some hamburgers, and they sat in the hard plastic seats the station provided to eat. Harry couldn't help but look around, and the other knew that everything normal seemed so strange after his experience in the magical world.

"Are you all right? You have been razer quiet," he finally asked. The kid thoughtfully chewed a bite of his burger, mulling over whatever was upsetting him.

"People think that I'm special," he finally said. "Mr. Diggle, Mr. Ollivander... I don't know anything about magic at all, though. How can anyone at all expect anything of me? I'm famous and I can't even remember what for. I don't even remember the night Voldemort killed my parents."

Perhaps Ed should have listened to the conversation Harry had with Ollivander. He didn't remember telling him any of that. But that was beside the point; the kid needed someone to comfort him, and while he wasn't very good at that, there was no one else. And he could empathize, since he'd been in a vaguely similar position once. Not exactly the same, but kind of close.

"It vill be all right, Harry," Ed reassured, unsure if he was cut out for comforting the kid. But he pushed aside his doubts and continued. "You'll learn vast enough. It isn't too hard to pick up on, as long as you put your mind to it."

Harry brightened slightly at the encouragement, and Ed decided he didn't do too badly of a job after all. He eyed his burger for a moment, turning it in his hands. The rest of the patty was downed in one huge monster bite, leaving Ed free to dust his hands off and get Harry's things on the train, which was pulling up at the station. He gave the kid an envelope as he got onto the carriage.

"Zis has your ticket to Hogwarts. On zee virst ov September, at King's Cross. It's all on zere. Iv you have any problems viz zee Dursleys, send me a letter viz your owl. Sche'll know how to vind me. See you soon, Harry."

He stepped down, back onto the platform and watched as the wheels began to turn, at first with a lethargic groan before picking up speed and chugging along with that characteristic clack; as it picked up speed, he Disapparated out of the station. After the darkness passed, and his vision cleared, the library came into focus. Ed was standing by the table where he had been reading before being disturbed by the Headmaster. Looking around and seeing no one, he settled himself into the seat again, shifting into a comfortable position and took up the book. He flipped through the pages and immersed himself in the book once more when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

This time, instead of threatening the newcomer, Ed groaned and let his head fall forward to hit the table. He peeked out of the corner of his eye, and as predicted, saw Dumbledore standing there. The old man had a scintillating gleam in his eye, one that Ed was quickly coming to associate with evil intentions on the Headmaster's part.

"It is good to see you back, Edward. I trust that you were successful?" Without bothering to wait for an answer, Dumbledore waved his hand, dismissing whatever Ed may have said. "It is no matter. I have one more request to make of you."

"Zis virst." Ed fished out the package that Dumbledore had requested and dropped it onto the table. "Vat is in here?"

"A Sorcerer's Stone."

"And voo made it?"

"Myself, with Nicholas Flamel and Van Hohenheim." A shadow darkened Ed's face as the name popped up again, but was gone before it could be read into.

"And vat is it made ov?"

"Magical energy, of course."

The Amestrian scrutinized Dumbledore's face for any hints of a lie; however, the Headmaster had many years to perfect his poker face, and hid any signs well. He didn't know how mislead Dumbledore was, but couldn't understand how a man who was so adamantly expressed to be the most brilliant being alive could be so easily fooled.

"You had best hope zat your vriends told you zee trus ven you made zis abomination." He pushed the package away with the edge of his book, distrustful of the object inside. "Vat is it you vant?"

"I would like for you to go down to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on September first," Dumbledore requested. "I want to ensure that Harry makes it onto the train and to Hogwarts."

"Paranoid? Are you avraid zat zis Voldemort guy vill try to kill him?" Knowing he wouldn't receive an answer, Ed propped his book against the edge of the table. "Vine, I vill. Vat time?"

"The train leaves at eleven."

"Zen I'll be zere at halv past ten. Can I read now?"

"You always could, Edward."

Dumbledore left again, before he could hear Ed's groan at the conciliatory answer. He could almost feel the satisfied smirk the old man wore burning through the air as he passed. He lifted the book again and skimmed the pages, stopping once he had found his place for the third time. This time, however, he was unable to delve into the knowledge hidden in the pages. With a sigh directed at himself, he left the library, headed to what would be his classroom once the school term started. Several times, he passed by Peeves the Poltergeist, who kept away from the blond. He had learned his lesson well enough after being transmuted into an inkwell for dumping wet sponges onto the newcomer.

In what felt like to time at all, he was standing in his classroom, the movable chalkboard before him. He had taken it from another room, abandoned and unused; with permission from Minerva, he spent the batter half of twenty minutes carrying it down two flights of stairs and through what felt like five miles of corridors and passages. It was worth the effort; otherwise it wouldn't be standing here now.

One hand rested on the surface of the board; composed of kaolinite, Al2Si2O5(OH)4. Two aluminum atoms, two silicon atoms, five oxygen atoms and four hydroxide anions; used to varnish paper, giving it that fine gloss, in toothpaste, ceramics, light bulbs, makeup, paint, rubber, face masks, soaps, and in medicine as a reliever for diarrhea. Amazing how a rock had so many varied uses.

The hand slipped off the cool surface, reaching instead and grasping a door handle. He pushed the door open and entered his quarters. It wasn't exactly a bedroom, and wasn't the same as military barracks, but it had a bed nonetheless. He slid his boots off, leaving them by the door, pulled his gloves off and laid them on the desk, the sunglasses following soon after, arms tucked beneath them. The coat was shucked off and draped on a hook hanging off the door. He fell onto the bed without a second thought, his sleep blissfully silent, void of any dreams.

* * *

_"What exactly do you plan on doing?" Ed asked quietly. The other man glanced back over his shoulder at the boy before looking ahead again._

_"I plan to prove a theory."_

_The passage opened into a larger room, about ten by ten by ten feet. It was a little snug, but large enough for their purposes. Another array was sprawled across the floor, brushing against every edge of the room. Lines were squashed into it as though the alchemist who drew it was in a hurry and didn't have time for neatness. Ed scoffed at the thought; every alchemist had to be sure of every line they drew, of every curve. A single mistake could end one's life. Or worse. But still, considering who had drawn this, it was no doubt intended to be shaped in such a manner._

_ Ed was directed into the middle of the array, where no lines touched. A small circle, barely a foot in diameter, stood in the middle, a desert oasis surrounded by the deathly sands of its home. Ed swallowed nervously; he could feel his heart hammering in his chest in awful nervousness, but he wouldn't move from his spot. He made a promise, a deal, and he would see it through. Even if it killed him. _

_The man pressed his palms onto the edge of the circle and red electricity raced along the edges, bright fire consuming an oil spill. It drew a pattern in the circle that had been hidden before, underneath the pandemonium of the array. The lightning split off into three separate arcs that raced along the outskirts of the array before curving inwards, racing to the oasis in the middle. The energy circled once before leaping onto Ed, his muscles locking up with the sudden influx of energy._

_Pain. Searing, numbing, ripping pain. It tore him apart and put him back together, only to take him down again. He distantly felt his knees touch the ground, but couldn't give it any thought at all. His mind was being destroyed and rebuilt along with the rest of him. His nerves were on fire, white-hot fire, racing through his veins before coalescing in his heart. He felt it give out once, start up again, only to give out a second time and he slumped to the floor, body still. The pain stopped, but he could still feel the fire clawing at his heart._

_It moved away, back down his limbs and up into his skull, forcing his heart to beat once more. His teeth numbed with the fire, his head hurt and all he could see what a painfully bright white screen. The fire dimmed down to a dull roar and the screen dimmed. A weight pressed against his heart as the fire returned back to his chest, flickering as it changed. Ed shut his eyes, the lids even hurting with the energy that had assaulted him. He felt something pick him up, but his body hardly registered the difference, save for a slight twinge as his clothes shifted across his skin._

_Ed opened his eyes slightly, barely a slit to look through. Even then, the dim light exploded against his corneas and he had to resist the overwhelming urge to shut them again. The man came into his vision, and his words resonated in his eardrums, leaving them with a dull ache._

_"You are now Hope," he said, words carrying a solemn and final quality._

_Ed closed his eyes and let the darkness overtake him once more._

* * *

_Next chapter: Brace_

Derples: There are flashbacks for a reason, you see? I don't want to go through a twenty page long explanation to you all. It's boring, is a waste of time and effort on my part, and I don't need to make this 123 pages on Word. Literally. I'd rather do that with writing something useful or good. And no one ever said I had to follow Equivalent Exchange. I would still upload, of course, but I mentioned back in chapter one that reviews will make me upload _faster_.


	5. Brace

**Edit: Fixed up the mechanics of the Freezing Charm. Thanks to The Bibliomaniac.**

A/N: For those of you who are truly bothered by the accent, I am willing to send an edited version of Amaranthine over to you if you ask. Please, if you want an edited version you'll have to ask. I rewrote it so that Ed no longer has his accent and some of the details have been changed to reflect that. Thanks to: watermelon-shotput, TartKiwiFruit, demonicfate616, ThePurpleSuperCow, Kohaku the Otaku, Burning Tortoise, Guest, Okami Endless, Tiger Box, SupaCrazee, SapphireBlue82, EashaChan, The OMG Cat, Takei Daloui, dracomancer6491, Alice Nyte, Gwen Fin Alae.

**Warning: More of Ed's German accent. Mentions of exploding toilets and murder. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (Eat at your own risk!) Rat attacks. One word of German. One flashback.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Brace**

Brace – noun, verb (used with object), idiom; (noun) 1, something that holds parts together or in place; 2, anything that imparts rigidity or steadiness; 3, a pair or couple; 4, a protective band covering the wrist or lower part of the arm; (verb) 1, to furnish, fasten or strengthen with, or as if with a brace; 2, to fix firmly, make steady or secure against pressure or impact; 3, to make tight or increase the tension of; 4, to act as a stimulant to; (idiom) _(Informal)_ 'brace up', to summon up one's courage or become resolute

Note: This definition is incomplete and does not include medical, nautical or military terms or phrases.

* * *

"_I will prepare and some day my chance will come."_

–_Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

Ed shivered vehemently and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, glaring at the chill winds. The air was crisp with the promise of an early autumn, the leaves of the trees already turning their golden and red hues, waving threateningly on their trees with the poised grace of a ballet dancer, hovering on the edge of falling and announcing the beginning of the death of the summer months. He couldn't see any trees where he stood now, but could easily picture the image in his head. He had seen a tree with its coverings in such a position ten minutes ago, at ten twenty, when he had strolled out of the station for a breather. He couldn't handle the crowds right now, having woken up from a particularly vivid nightmare the night before. It was blurry now, having faded to the recesses of his mind, but every so often, he would be rewarded with a stark, clear image of what had passed through his mind the night before and left him feeling claustrophobic in the regular crowds. Now, though, he was as fine as one such as himself could be.

King's Cross was packed with both the regular commute and the incognito witches and wizards preparing for their trip to Hogwarts- even if a number of them were possessing rather ill-thought disguises, if any bothered to attempt to camouflage themselves at all. A disturbingly large number of attendees and their families were prominent, either uncaring or unaware of the attention they received. For all their talk of concealment, it was bizarre that they would allow for themselves to be so plainly seen by the unaware public.

A glance at the clock hanging above the platform showed it to be ten thirty. Harry hadn't showed, not yet. Ed had been careful to watch the entrance to the wizard's platform from the non-magical side, occasionally switching sides if got bored. He passed through the wall casually, blinking to clear his eyes of the smoke that pervaded Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The place was bustling with students and their families; parents, siblings, cousins, uncles and aunts. Cats were twining between people's feet, moving as though it were natural. A scarlet engine embossed 'Hogwarts Express' in thick, gothic letters sat on the tracks, smoke stack blowing its fog over the station. The blond restlessly passed through the crowd with ease, eager to finish this little job. He walked along the length of the train and was walking back to the head of the train when he finally saw Harry.

"How are you, Harry?"

Despite having been in front of him, the dark haired boy still jumped, a scowl marring his face. If one had to guess, then they would say that Harry had been too busy searching for an empty compartment to have noticed the blond. Ed wryly smiled at the younger's surprise, matching his pace as the first year began walking again.

"I was fine until you scared me like that."

And I couldn't resist," he gave way of explanation. "I zought you had already noticed me. I vas in plain sight, avter all."

He let his attention be drawn by a boy with dreadlocks who was holding a shoebox. A crowd had formed around him, egging him on with eager voices. Complying, the lid of the box was lifted and a very thin, long hairy leg poked out, hooking around the edge. Ed surmised it was a spider, likely a tarantula. The crowd shrieked and yelled as the spider struggled to escape the box.

Then they passed, and the noises faded into the general cacophony that was the platform's personal soundtrack. It was only at the end of the train that they found an empty compartment. Taking the trolley Harry was pushing, Ed brought it to the stairwell and climbed up on the first step, pulling his trunk off the trolley and sliding it up with him. Two twin redheads came over and offered a hand, but he had managed to maneuver it into the train by then and shoved it beneath the seats. They talked with Harry a bit before leaving, and he joined Ed in the compartment. Harry took a seat, staring out at the crowd gathered by the lip of the tracks. Ed looked out too and saw a family gathered there, much larger than he was used to. Three boys, a girl, and a woman, all with bright red hair, were standing there. One of them was struggling against the woman's grip, who insisted he had a smudge on his nose.

"They helped me get onto the platform," Harry idly commented.

"Zee vamily right zere?" Ed pointed down at them for clarity.

"Uh-huh."

Another boy had come over to them, and Ed spotted a silver badge pinned to his chest, directly over his heart. It was blazoned with the letter P; the blond guessed it to be a prefect badge, which Minerva had briefly informed him of the week before. The twins were badgering the prefect, teasing him relentlessly.

"Why were you waiting for me?" Harry suddenly asked. Ed nearly missed it, listening to the twins threaten to blow up a toilet at the school.

"Huh? Oh, Dumbles asked me to come. Juscht to make sure zee Dursleys didn't try to keep you vrom comink to school."

The train whistle suddenly blew, piercing the air with a screech. The mother hurried her sons on the train while their sister began to cry.

"Don't Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

Ed snickered at the strange consolations the twins gave, watching as the station became a speck in the distance and the houses blurred together into a myriad of color. The countryside burst into view as the train left the city behind. Ed leaned back into his seat as familiarity set in despite the Hogwarts Express being one of the quietest trains he had ever ridden on. The wheels were a faint clackity-clack against the rails, barely audible over the hushed tones of conversation seeping through the walls. The sound of the compartment door sliding open jarred him out of his reverie.

"Anyone sitting here?"

The youngest red head had opened the door, one hand frozen in gesture to an open seat. Harry and Ed looked at each other, and back at the boy, shrugging in synch. The boy forced his trunk through the small compartment door and beneath a seat, much as Ed had done earlier, before sitting on Harry's side. A black spot like ink was visible on his nose. He surreptitiously glanced at Harry, looked at Ed, and glanced at Harry again. The door opened again and the twins boisterously entered.

"Hey Ron, Harry," one of them greeted. "We're going down go look for Lee Jordan; he's got a giant tarantula with him. See you later."

They left again, sliding the door shut as they removed themselves to the corridor. Ron, as he was addressed by the twins, had given up on silence and started talking.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he pointlessly introduced, "and those were my brothers, Fred and George." He paused expectantly.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, and looked at Ed. Ron, however, had other ideas.

"You're Harry Potter? _The _Harry Potter?"

"Uh..."

Unprepared for such a reaction, Harry was left speechless. Ron had taken no notice, just short of shouting things into the air. The excitable first year was talking to no one now as Harry looked to his friend for help. He could only shrug in response, wanting to see how Harry would deal with the sudden onslaught of attention. He wasn't the guide anymore; it was time for Harry to stand on his own two feet, with only nudges in the right direction. Reminders of what can, what can't and what shan't be done.

"Can you remember seeing him? You-Know-Who?"

"Who?"

"You know, _him_."

"No, I don't."

"The guy that killed, you know," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, "your parents."

"Oh, no." Despite the blunt mention of his parents' murder, Harry was still fairly cheerful. "No, I don't; just some green lights."

Ron stared for a moment. He cut his gaze away from the other boy, realizing what he was doing, catching sight of Ed in the process. Realizing he never introduced him, Ron let the corners of his mouth drop. The other stared impassively back, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Who're you?" he readily complied.

"Ed."

"Why are you wearing sunglasses on a train?"

Harry, having only seen Ed with the glasses, hadn't noticed at first and didn't truly register that fact until pointed out by Ron. He looked at Ed as well, feeling curiosity burn like it hadn't before. The Dursleys were adamant that Harry had not be seen nor heard, except where necessary. And questions were most definitely not asked, ever. It was just another thing in his life that had been turned upside down so quickly, with this newfound freedom. The blond smirked, baring his teeth ever so slightly, giving him a predatory air.

"Iv I looked at you directly, zen you vould die."

The sentence was uttered with such seriousness Ron could feel his heart stop for a moment out of sheer horror. Ed fingered the glasses' arm, ready to pull it off his face. Ron tensed, ready to either run out of the compartment or jump out the window.

"You took off your glasses for one of the goblins at Gringotts," Harry said, his initial spark of terror having faded with that logic. Ed frowned and dropped his hand to his side, all solemnity gone.

"Aw, but I vas havink vun," he whined like a petulant child, flashing Harry a grin to let him know he was fine. Ron spluttered at the blond, angry that he had been fooled so easily.

To distract the redhead from his anger, Harry asked about Ron's family, to which he readily replied. Leaving the two to their ancestral conversation, Ed put a hand in his pocket, pulling out a journal and a pen. He uncapped the writing utensil, and after pulling his left sleeve down, ran the point against his arm. Satisfied with the ink trail left behind, he started writing notes down on the paper.

He had been studying the mechanics behind the spells a witch or wizard used. One in particular he had been focusing on was the Freezing Charm; it temporarily disabled the body's ability to maintain its calcium ingredient in the muscles, leaving them forcibly contracted due to a chemical known as actin, which allows the muscles to flex. With the calcium gradient disabled, myosin, released by actin, would not be produced and the target would be left unable to move. The pseudo-paralysis would lift itself once the calcium gradient stabilized itself or once the spell was lifted, which would speed up the body's return to normalcy but would often leave the muscles of the target numb for a certain period afterwards.

Ed was fixing up some notes on the Patronus Charm that he had spotted when the compartment door opened. He jerked the pen off the paper, unwilling to risk ruining his notes. A slightly plump woman smiled at them, speaking with Harry. In moments, she left and Harry turned around, arms laden with sweets. Ron's ears pinked and he muttered something under his breath, pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches. Harry picked up a Pumpkin Pasty, hastily removing it of its wrappings.

"Hungry?" Ron asked, eyebrows in danger of being lost in his hair.

"Starving."

Ron held up his wrapped sandwiches and pulled off the plastic. He took one of the four sandwiches inside and pulled it apart with a sigh.

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"I'll trade you for one," Harry said, holding up another pasty.

"You don't want one, it's all dry." Ron's ears pinked again and he added, "You know, she hasn't got time, with all five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty."

The other took it and the sandwiches were quickly forgotten. Harry offered Ed a pasty but was declined; he wasn't all that eager to get food all over his notes. That still didn't stop him from edging one next to him just in case. Biting back an exhale at the kid's stubbornness, he shut the book and stowed it away with his pen, back into his pocket. He picked up the pasty and began to unwrap it as Harry found a package of Chocolate Frogs.

"What are these? They really aren't frogs, are they?"

"No," Ed answered. "Zey're enchanted chocolates. Go on, open one. See vat it does." Harry ripped off the packaging and the frog jumped out of his hands and stuck to the window, where its body cooled. In moments, the frog was stuck to the glass, body frozen. "Not a very smart vrog," Ed commented.

Harry pried the frog off the window and ate it. He made a face and stuck out his tongue. On top of it was a cardboard card, a collectible that was commonly found in the chocolates. Harry wiped off the card with one of several napkins he was given by the witch that sold him the candy and sweets. Ed laughed and Harry tossed a Chocolate Frog at him. The alchemist smirked as he caught it in one hand, and managed to get the frog's head without it slipping away like Harry's did. He pulled the card out through its decapitation-stricken neck and peered at it. It was that of Cornelius Agrippa, a German wizard. Ed was familiar with his non-magic based works, but not his wizarding achievements.

"So this is Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of Dumbledore," Ron scolded. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa- thanks."

"Could I see?" Ed asked, and Harry passed the card over.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENT HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel and Van Hohenheim. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Ed felt a scowl form on his face as he read that name. He handed Harry his card back and looked out the window, not even noticing when one of Ron's frogs jumped onto his shoulder. He barely heard Ron calling his name in what felt like an eternity later.

"Hey, Ed, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm vine."

A ripping noise filled the silence and Ed looked at Harry, who had just opened his bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Ed started to zone out again as Ron warned Harry about how literally 'every flavor' was taken. A few minutes after the two had gone through the bag, Ron took another one of the Every Flavor Beans bags and dared Ed to eat all of the jellybeans inside. Ed, with an almost sepulchral slowness, opened the bag, lifted it into the air, above his head and dumped all of its contents into his open mouth. That meant he was eating roughly two hundred jellybeans, all or mostly different flavors, in one go. Ron just stared while Harry laughed at the redhead's surprise. Ed, smug with his success, smirked at Ron, roughly swallowing the sweets.

"Vat do I vin?" he asked.

"What?"

"You dared me to eat all ov zee jellybeans. I ate zem all. So vat do I vin?"

Ron was saved by the compartment door opening and a boy entered. He had black hair and a rounded face, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. His hands trembled slightly, as did his voice when he spoke.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen a toad anywhere at all?" Harry and Ron said no while Ed was sorely tempted to hold up a Chocolate Frog. "I've lost him! He keeps running from me!"

"Don't vorry," Ed reassured him, ignoring the fact that toads can't run, they hop. "He'll turn up. Zere's a lot ov schtudents on board, so I'm sure someone has seen him."

"I guess... But if you see him..." He left, shutting the door as Ron made a face.

"I don't see why he's so bothered by it. If I brought a toad, I'd have lost it as soon as I could. And I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." Ron pulled a rat out of his pocket and placed it on his lap, where it slept. "He could've died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but it didn't work."

"You already know magic?" Ed asked.

"George gave the spell to me, so it night be a dud," he admitted, pulling his trunk out and holding up a very battered wand, silver glinting at the end. "Unicorn hair's poking out. Anyway..."

He raised his wand, clearing his throat slightly as the door opened yet again. Would it be so hard for someone to give some kind of warning before barging into the compartment? With an air of authority, a bushy-haired girl wearing her black Hogwarts robes strode into the compartment, the kid with the missing toad behind her.

"Anyone around here see a toad? Neville's lost his," the girl said.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron protested.

"You're doing magic?" the girl asked, eyes fixated on the old wand Ron held. "Let's see it, then." Ron blinked in astonishment but then took the oddity of the situation in stride.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter yellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

The spell was clearly not a spell, clearly just a made up rhyme George had whipped up to fool his younger brother. There was an air of tension and disappointment in the compartment as the 'spell' took no effect on the sleeping rat. Scabbers just continued to lay on Ron's leg, vapid and indifferent.

"Are you sure that was a real spell?" the girl asked, disappointment clear through her voice.

"It vasn't," Ed answered, a laugh bubbling up as he spoke, earning a glare from Ron.

"Yeah, and like you could do any better!" he challenged, forgetting that Ed was older than him and would logically have more experience.

"Why not? It's alvays good practice, I suppose."

Ed reached into a sleeve and slid his wand out; he didn't have anywhere else to keep it handy without potentially breaking it and keep it close if he needed to use magic. Transmuting a sheath of sorts wasn't so very difficult, either. Holding the grip in one hand, Ed paused to recall the incantation before pointing the wand at the sleeping rat. Yellow bled down from the pet's spine like a miniature waterfall. Scabbers made no reaction to the sudden change other than to emit a noise that sounded like a snore.

"Are you a student?" the girl asked accusingly. Ed shrugged, infuriating her slightly. "I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced, looking back to the first years.

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Really?" Hermione was now clearly excited, eyes shining slightly as she spoke faster. "I've learned all about you- I got a few extra books, for background reading. You're in Modern Magical History and the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?"

"You didn't know? If I were you, I'd have found out everything I could. Do either of you know what house you'll be in?" she inquired, changing the subject without a thought. "I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best, and Dumbledore was in it himself. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go looking for Neville's toad. You should get changed; we'll be at the school pretty soon."

She left and Neville followed her, meek in her wake. Ron huffed and forced his trunk out from beneath his seat again, tossing the battered wand on top of his things before angrily shoving it beneath the seat again, clearly fuming.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it."

"What house are your brothers in?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor; Mum and Dad were in it too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad, but imagine if they'd put me in Slytherin."

"Slyzerin's not so bad," Ed mused. Ron shot him a horrified look.

"But that's the house You-Know-Who was in!"

"So? Sirius Black vas a Gryvvindor," Ed countered. Ron didn't bother answering; he let his eyes slide over to the window, steadfastly ignoring the alchemist.

"So, ah," Harry fumbled around for a subject, hoping to get the two to reconcile. "Ron, what do your oldest brothers do now that they've finished school?"

"Charlie's over in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's down in Africa doing something for Gringotts. Speaking of Gringotts, did you hear about the break-in? Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

"Did someone catch them?"

"No, that's why it's such big news. No one knows who it was, and my dad doesn't think they took anything. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens, 'cause they think You-Know-Who was behind it."

It would be unlikely that they were after anything but the Stone. The two were too close to each other for it to have been anything else, and what were the chances that someone was hiding some other very powerful magical object in the same Gringotts division? One to none, that's right.

"So, what's your Quidditch team?"

"Don't have one," Ed blatantly said.

"I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What! It's the best game in the world–"

And he was off like a racehorse, explaining the rules and teams to Harry, more than likely disorientating him than was being revealed. The explanation evolved into a telling of famous matches he'd seen and the high quality brooms he'd buy if he had the money and their different stats; which were best for Beaters, for Catchers and Keepers and those specifically for the Seeker. Ron was getting to the finer points of the game when the door was opened again. Ed shot to his feet, annoyed now by everyone simply entering.

This time, however, it wasn't Hermione, the bushy haired girl, nor was it Neville, the boy that had lost his toad. No, this time it was the boy from Madame Malkin's. He was flanked on either side by two larger boys, their position reminiscent of a pair of bodyguards. It was unnatural for an eleven year old to be that burly, except for maybe Armstrong. Ed openly shuddered at the image his mind provided and earned a glance from the platinum blond. He glared back and after a few moments, the boy looked away, turning back to the students. Or, to be more specific, he was looking at Harry, with far more interest than he had shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he asked. "They're saying that Harry Potter's in this compartment. That's you, right?"

"Yeah."

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," the pale boy introduced, "and my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ron coughed, covering a laugh with the noise. Draco glared at him. "You think my name is funny, don't you? There's no point in asking who you are; my father told me that all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford. You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to hang around with the wrong sort. I can help you there," Draco offered, one hand outstretched.

"I think that I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry coolly responded.

Ed shot Harry a grin for the well-placed insult. The Malfoy boy reddened slightly, appearing as a light dusting of pink on his pale face. It could easily be mistaken for a blush, either the natural sort or makeup.

"I'd be more careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're polite, you'll go the same way as you're parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around riffraff like the Weasleys and they'll rub off on you."

Both the first years stood up, fists clenched. Ron's face was redder than his hair, and he was grinding his teeth together. Ed decided that he had enough of the arrogant boy and stepped between him and the other two boys. Malfoy looked up at him, one thin eyebrow raised.

"I suggest zat you leave now, Malvoy. I'm sure zat you don't vant to lose any points vor your house bevore you are even sorted, no? I'm sure zat vould be a new record and not one you vould vant on yours."

"And how could a shorty like you take any points?" the ignorant boy taunted. Ed's eye twitched and he clenched his hands.

"And voo are you to queschtion your elders?" Ed was a second away from chewing the pretentious git out when it happened.

"AAAGHH!"

Goyle swung his hand around, narrowly missing Malfoy but managing to knock the pile of sweets all over the compartment. A yellowish blob was latched onto his hand and was sent flying into the wall. Alarmed by the sudden attack and near-miss by his subordinate, Malfoy turned tail and fled back to wherever he was staying at, the assaulted Goyle and frightened Crabbe dogging his steps. Ed looked over at Ron, who was inspecting the yellow streak that had driven the three away.

"I don't believe it," he whispered. "It was Scabbers."

He held up the goldenrod rat which was snoozing lightly in his hands. Harry clapped the Weasley on the back, telling him that Scabbers was good for something. Just as Ed had reached down to begin cleaning up the mess of candy, Hermione peeked in through the open door.

"What is going on here?"

She looked around at the compartment, taking in the mess of sweets that Goyle had sent flying in his moment of panic. Ron was moving Scabbers back onto the seat, setting him atop a box of Chocolate Frogs. Scabbers, of course, was unaffected by the sudden change of scenery and had continued sleeping despite his impact with the wall and whatever he had landed on, presumably the seat.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked. Harry explained their meeting in the robe shop, and for Hermione's benefit, the conversation (if it could be called that) between them and how Scabbers had scared off the three. "I've heard of his family," Ron said, voice turning dark. "They were one of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Claimed they'd been bewitched, but my dad doesn't believe it. He says they don't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." Ed wasn't much of a science-fiction fan, but he was fairly certain that line was stolen from the Star Wars franchise. "Can we help you with something?" he finally asked Hermione, patience short.

"Just hurry up and get your robes on, we'll be arriving soon."

"Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right- I only came in here because people were being childish, running up and down the corridors," Hermione explained stuffily. "You've got dirt on your nose, did you know that?"

Ron glared at the brunette as she left, while Ed looked outside. He gauged it to be about eight at night, seeing as how dark it was outside. The castle was barely visible in the distance, the faintest of shimmers of light in the darkness of dusk. The younger boys shucked their jackets in favor of their robes. Harry asked why Ed wasn't changing as well.

"I don't have to."

"But all students have to," Ron argued.

"And I am not a schtudent."

"Then what are you, a teacher?"

"Yes, I am." Ron gawked at the blond, who smirked back at him. "You might vant to schut your mous; you'll catch vlies zat vay. Harry, ven vee get ovv, I vill brink you to Hagrid. He vill take you and zee ozer virst years up to zee school separately, but do not vorry. I have heard zat zee view is very beautivul."

The conductor's voice rang out over the intercom, reminding the students to leave their luggage on the train. Harry and Ron started stuffing their pockets with the remaining sweets as the train harshly screeched to a halt. Ed opened the doors and saw the rush of students moving to leave the train before turning around with a devilish smirk on his face. Both the boys were pale under the light, but whitened further once they saw the blonde's expression. Instead of pulling them into the fray, as was expected, he ditched them in the compartment. The two rushed out and Ron spotted a glimpse of golden-blond hair before it was swallowed by the crowd. Harry squawked in disbelief and raced after him, dragging Ron by the wrist. The redhead yelped in surprise as he was pulled through the crowd, barely resisting the flow.

Despite being taken aback by the sudden handling, Ron was still upset Ed leaving them and was appropriately furious when he saw the long haired teacher calmly waiting just off the station platform so as to keep out of the human congestion. His arms were crossed to keep the slight chill out. One corner of his face lifted in a smirk; the thought to test them himself was unexpected but surely welcome. If he were to test the new students for their house placements, he was sure that they would both be Gryffindors.

He opened his mouth to apologize or make something up so they wouldn't be so flustered, but was saved by a sudden light coming to life by the carriages. It hurried forward, illuminating its wielder well from its position above even the tallest student's head.

"Firs' years, fir's years over here!" they called.

The man, standing chest, head and shoulders taller than Ed, was the one and only Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid. Most of his face was obscured by a thick, bushy black beard that hadn't been trimmed in years if one judged by its appearance, with an accompanying shaggy mane that wound around the rest of his head. His eyes were small, shiny beetle-black orbs of warmth that belied his kindred nature that stood at odds with his frightening appearance.

"Ed," Hagrid said, spotting the teacher, "its good ter see yeh."

"Likevise. Hagrid, zis is Harry Potter and Ron Veasley," Ed introduced. "Zis is Hagrid, zee gamekeeper and one ov zee kindest beings you vill ever meet."

"It's been t' long since I've seen yeh, Harry!" Emphasizing Ed's point, Hagrid took Harry up in a one armed hug, the other still clutching at the lantern. Harry gasped for breath as his spine popped and ribs cracked beneath the pressure, miraculously not snapping. "Yeh were jus' a little baby the las' time I saw yeh."

Ed waved goodbye to the startled first years and walked down the path Hagrid had just come from, allowing himself to be absorbed into the throng of older students heading down to the carriages. The carriages themselves were not unusual themselves, but their steeds were predictably unusual. Thestrals pulled the carriages to the school, and perhaps the most important thing about them is that they are invisible to most people. Only those who have witnessed and accepted death can view their strange appearance: a skeletal-like body, skin so thin it was almost transparent, bat's wings sprouting from their shoulder blades, and milky-white eyes that peeked out of their sockets, unseeingly seeing in their unique fashion. They were like Hagrid in that they were mostly harmless despite their appearances, and only lent further credence to the phrase 'Don't judge a book by their cover.'

The thestrals stared at Ed as he passed, several nickering softly much to the passing students' confusion. One flared its wings, successfully knocking a student over that happened to be in its path. Ed found an empty carriage and entered it before anyone else was hit. As funny as it was, someone was probably going to accuse him soon and he had no wish to get into a fistfight this late at night. Or a beat down, since the next person to get hit was probably not much of a fighter. Looking out the window, Ed saw Hagrid's lamp retreating into the woods, illuminating the gamekeeper and outlining the students slipping and sliding behind him. The carriage shuddered and he looked at the door to see three redheads climbing aboard: one was fuming while the other two grinned and gave each other high-fives.

"For the last time, Fred, no! Mom said you can't send Ginny a toilet seat!"

"She said that _George_ couldn't send a toilet seat, Perce."

"Yeah, so that means I can send her the toilet bowl!" The twins high-fived again then noticed Ed, who was staring at them in bewilderment. "You were on the train with Harry Potter, weren't you?"

"I'm surprised you noticed. Zee two ov you vere so busy talkink, I zought I vas ovv zee hook."

"You've already met Fred and George, then?" the third brother ventured, holding out a hand. "Percy Weasley. I'm a prefect for Gryffindor." Ed took his hand and shook it, making Percy wince slightly with the strength behind the simple gesture.

"Call me Ed." He looked up in thought for a moment before amending, "Or maybe you schould call me Provessor. Vee vill be at zee school soon, avter all."

"Professor?" one of the twins asked. Ed had already lost track of which one was which. "What do you teach?

"Alchemy. Your Transviguration teacher was quite adamant in convincink me to teach." He grimaced, remembering the conversation back in the hospital. "Sche vouldn't take no vor an answer."

"Where are you from Professor?" Percy asked inquisitively.

"Deutschland." _Germany._ Percy's face fell at the answer; he clearly didn't know German.

"Uh, did you say the Netherlands?"

"No, Germany."

"Y'see, Percy? He's not Dutch," one of the twins commented.

Percy's face reddened slightly and he stood, but the twins were spared his wrath because the carriages had stopped, spilling Percy onto the floor. He picked himself up, dusted off his robes and straightened his badge with a self-conscious air and left the carriage, leaving the door swinging on its hinges. The twins cackled again at both their brother and good fortune, again, thanked Ed and hopped off themselves. He got out himself and patted the thestral's side. It extended its wings and smacked the same poor student as before in the head, knocking them to the ground. He stood up from the ground and was beaten, again, by the now-folding wing. He growled something quite unrepeatable, earning a blank yet disapproving stare from the magic horse that, of course, went unnoticed by everyone but Ed.

The teacher had by then passed through the castle doors and was in the entrance hall, large enough to comfortably hold a house and more. The ceiling stretched far up into the air, far too high for the eye to properly make out, despite the walls being lit with magic flames adorning bracketed torches. A marble staircase opposite the front doors gracefully climbed up to the higher levels of the castle. Left of the stairs, but right of the entrance was the double doors to the Great Hall. The glossy mahogany wood glowed a healthy red-brown under the magic firelight. Ed passed through the portal and came upon the Great Hall, generously decorated for the occasion. Several thousand candles floated over everyone's heads, glimmering as they passed over the four house tables and the staff table. The house tables, from left to right, were Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and were already filling up with students from their respective houses. Large braziers, filled with flickering magical flames, stood between the windows on three of fours sides of the hall, excepting the wall that held the mahogany doors. Each table bore golden plates, goblets and utensils, without food or drink as of yet. The staff table, unlike the benched house tables, had wooden backed chairs. Sitting in the middle was the throne-like Headmaster's seat. Most of the remaining seats were occupied as well, except for Ed's, Minerva McGonagall's, the owner of which was to greet the first years in the castle, and Hagrid's.

Ed walked down the middle of the hall, down to the staff table, with a glance to the enchanted ceiling above. Mirroring the sky outside, the glass paneling reproduced a mesh of dark violets and black with small pinpricks of white littering the dark blanket of night. Several of the false stars were patterned into constellations: Aquila, Cygnus, Delphinus and the faint Vulpecula. At the end of the house tables, Ed turned left before taking his seat at the end of the staff table, next to Professor Sprout. Directly in front was the Gryffindor table, where he could see the twins good-naturedly badgering their older brother again.

He quickly took to spinning his fork on the table; Professor Sprout pointedly ignored him, likely deciding that he wasn't worth bothering. He did receive a number of stares from the students, which evolved into whispering and pointing as the night slowly dragged on. He didn't like the attention, but seeing as how he was wearing sunglasses indoors and playing with his eating utensils, it wasn't hard to see why they looked at him. He was considering flipping his knife into the air and catching the handle for the heck of it when Hagrid came into the Great Hall. The students' chatter intensified and Ed changed his mind, aware that the first years would be in the hall in just a few minutes. Minerva would probably not be happy if a number of her students dropped dead of fright. Sprout, deciding she had had enough of her colleague's twiddling, told Ed to drop his fork. He grumbled about it but readily complied. He then folded his hands beneath his chin, elbows resting on the tabletop, and took to watching the mahogany doors. The noise slowly died down in anticipation; even the fire seemed to stop in its fluttering to see the newcomers.

The doors opened in the loud silence and the sound of tromping feet dominated the airwaves. At the head of the line was Minerva, who strode past the house tables with a familiar ease. The students, on the other hand, looked frightened fro the most part, some calming as they looked about and familiarized themselves with the new surroundings or spotted familiar faces among the crowd. At an unspoken signal, they stopped at the head of the house tables while Minerva turned and walked past the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables before disappearing from sight. The first years whispered to each other, several gawking at the ceiling or reassuring each other of their safety. The quieted as Minerva returned, the belly of a four-legged stool bar resting on the palm of one hand and the tip of a dirty, frayed wizard's hat being pinched in the fingers of the other. The stool was set down first, the hat coming down on the seat second. Minerva stood by the hat at parade rest, hands tightly clasped behind her, resting at the small of her back. The silence turned deafening as the sound of fabric ripping resounded through the hall, accompanied by a bellowing baritone.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The last dregs of the song echoed into hall and almost everyone began to applaud the Sorting Hat, who bowed at the brim to its receptive audience. Ed was still frozen in position, not having moved an inch since the song began. His mind was working overtime, making connections and assumptions. The hat may have been magic, but he was inclined to believe that there was a soul bound to it through either magical or alchemical means. Perhaps either Dumbledore or the Sorting Hat itself could tell him how a sentient piece of cloth was created. If it was indeed a soul, then he would have to apologize for referring to it as just being fabric.

"When I call your name," Minerva called out, pulling out a scroll blackened with ink, "you will step up and put on the hat to be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl stumbled out of the line and stopped at the stool, nervously lifting the hat up so she could sit. The brim slipped down, presumably over most of her face. The hall remained silent until the hat made itself known again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The corresponding table enthusiastically cheered for their first and newest housemate of the year. The ghost, known as the Fat Friar, waved at the girl as she sat down, relief clear on her face. The Sorting continued much in the same fashion: a student is called up; the hall is silent from anywhere to a second to several minutes before a house name is bellowed and the students cheer. There were few students Ed knew and fewer he cared to know, and made the ceremony all the more tedious. Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy were all sorted into Slytherin, confirming Malfoy's earlier prediction in Diagon Alley. The Granger girl, who had run up so eagerly to be sorted, was quickly proclaimed to be a Gryffindor, as was the toad boy, Neville, who had forgotten to take the hat off before running to his table.

Things became exciting when Harry was called up. The students began to chitter with anticipation when they heard his name, each one hoping that they would have the Boy Who Lived placed in their house. Ed didn't care where he was placed; he knew that Harry would likely be a good student no matter his placing, and Ed himself held no judgment towards any of the houses. Just Malfoy. Harry gave no inclination towards his thought as he sat down on the stool, but Ed had no doubts that he was beyond nervous; the hat, which was taking its sweet time sorting him, was likely not helping matters any. The top of the hat leaned forward slightly, giving it a hunchback, before straightening out as best as it could in its age.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The name tore through the dead air, echoing off the walls once, twice, before an explosion of sound erupted from the Gryffindor table. They were elated, excited that the famous Harry Potter was sorted into their house. The twins were chanting, people were whistling, laughing, clapping and cheering at their good fortune. There was less-than-enthusiastic applause from the other houses, sullen at the fact that they had lucked out. Harry didn't seem to take notice of any of this as he rather shakily walked over to the Gryffindor table, where he was immediately assaulted until Percy saved him with a firm clasp on his arm, leading the raven haired boy over to his seat and to his younger brothers. The table quieted down some, but the air on that side of the room thrummed with barely controlled exuberance. Several times a student clearly shivered with either pent up anticipation or energy; here, it was all the same. Ed gave the shell-shocked first year a smile behind his hands when he looked up at the staff table while on Professor Sprout's left side Hagrid gave him a thumbs up.

Ron was also sorted into Gryffindor, as was expected. Soon after the final student was sorted into Slytherin, leaving Minerva rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat and its stool back to wherever they had been waiting previous to the Sorting. Dumbledore stood up as Minerva took her seat, his face beaming and arms open wide as he gazed down upon the students.

"Welcome," he greeted, voice reverberating in the silence. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Praha! Kibosh! Basiate! Salugi! Thank you!"

He sat down, and most of the hall clapped and cheered for the odd introductory speech. A number of first years were hesitant, confused by the Headmaster's eccentricity until the older students confirmed that, yes, Dumbledore is old and is slightly touched in the head. Food appeared on the tables, allowing for amiable talk to float through the air among the candles. Ed took up some of everything, not giving his meal too much thought further than devouring it with gusto. His enthusiasm drew several more stares from the teachers unfamiliar with his appetite and students who had never seen him eat before, although they quickly looked back to their own plates once their curiosity was sated.

Ed popped a peppermint humbug in his mouth when all the dinner foods vanished, allowing for the plates to magically clean themselves. Dishes filled with blocks of ice cream soon took the feast's place. Ed couldn't help but glare at the cubical dairy products; his hatred of milk had not diminished in the slightest. The peppermint wrappers he had swiped from a bowl earlier proved to be quite amusing distractions while everyone ate. Not long after, much to his pleasure, the dessert followed the main course and Dumbledore stood o give out some important announcements.

"Now that we have all been fed and watered, I have some start-of-term notices to give you. First years should not that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils; some of our older students could do well to remember as well." Dumbledore let his eyes wander in the direction of the Weasley twins as he spoke. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that magic should not be performed in the halls between classes. Quidditch trials will begin in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Mrs. Hooch. And finally, I must inform you that the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone that does not wish to suffer a very painful death."

Ed felt one eye twitch in exasperation. There was no way the old man could have made it any more obvious as to where he was hiding the Stone, could he? Not even flashing neon lights spelling out 'Here is the Sorcerer's Stone, come and take it!' could be more blatant. A small number of students nervously laughed at the last notice, but a quiet murmur arose from everyone else. They could tell that such seriousness was not a normal matter.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Ed groaned as Dumbledore flicked his wand, a golden gravity-defying ribbon shooting out of the tip that formed itself, snakelike, into a set of lyrics. Ed covered his face as everyone else sang.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, after finishing conducting for the Weasley twins, who sang in a slow funeral march, "a magic beyond all we do here! Bedtime now. Off you trot!"

Ed got out of his chair and grabbed Dumbledore's elbow, speaking quietly.

"Zere are some zinks I vould like to ask you."

"Ask away." No guarantee of answers, of course.

"Vyy did you tell everyone vere zee Stone is? It is dangerous in certain hands."

"For the students, Edward. It has always been for the students." Ed resisted the urge to smack the guy across the face, gritting his teeth instead.

"You are playink viz vorces you do not underschtand, Dumbledore. It is visest to quit vile you are alive and ahead." He wasn't sure why he was warning him, but here he was, slowly giving away his secrets.

"And what do you know of these forces? I was under the impression you were previously a physicist in Munich, nothing more."

"Do not say I didn't varn you. Ven everyzink valls apart, zere vill be no one zere to pick it up vor you."

Ed gritted his teeth before leaving the Great Hall, silently fuming. The Headmaster had tried to get a rise out of him and nearly succeeded; he had come oh so very close to losing it but barely managed to keep his act together. The old man was no doubt suspicious of Ed, but whatever he thought was, as of right now, unimportant. Keeping the Stone out of the hands of idiots was really his priority, and if needed, Dumbledore could be dealt with later. He was surely suspicious right now, since he knew that Ed knew _something_, but hadn't given away exactly what it was that he knew.

In what felt like no time at all, Ed was standing in front of his classroom door, one hand grasping the handle. It was cold through his gloves, reminding the blond that Europe was not kind when it came to the winter months, the British Isles even less so than Germany. Warming spells would also be a priority, preferably a long-lasting warming spell. There was only so much that he could do with his cloak and clothing, and English winters were very brutal. Although, now he was in Scotland, which was even farther north which meant that he would have to deal with even colder winters than he would if he were down in London. Which would still be bad, mind you.

German winters were at best barely tolerable. Winter at Hogwarts would definitely not be something to sneeze at. In Germany, there were furnaces. Here, there were fireplaces and stone walls, which were terrible at keeping the heat in. Ed sighed and ran one hand through his hair as he sidestepped the open door into his classroom, shutting it behind him. The click as it shut was eerie in the silence, like the clank of chains resigning him to his fate.

Oh yes, this year would be fun. He had terrible, terrible winters to look forward to. There was a suspicious Headmaster that he worked for that was probably going to try and drag every single skeleton he had out of his closet and dig up everything else he buried with the sands of time. Yes, such a great year to look forward to.

* * *

_Ed shut the door behind him with a slam. The five officers at their desks looked up, surprised. One of them stood up, but at a sharp look from the first lieutenant, reluctantly sat back in his seat. None of them made a move as Ed stalked past, instead taking in his appearance. His clothes were ripped and bloodied, though there were no signs of injury on his person; dulled eyes, though sharpened somewhat by whatever goal he had in mind. His hair was half-pulled out of its braid, the tie caught on a thin lock of hair. Hawkeye didn't quite understand why he didn't tell Al, but knew that it was his choice. With a heavy pressure on her chest, Riza remembered just what Ed had done for Al, to return his body to him. He had admitted to his doings not long after it had happened, feeling that they needed to know what lengths he had gone to. Ed knew that they would never judge him for his actions, and for that he was eternally grateful. Bad joke, bad joke, clear the air._

_Ed forced Mustang's door open before slamming it shut behind him, not turning away from the Colonel-turned Brigadier General. The darker haired man looked up in surprise, not having heard the other door being slammed by Edward. He barely had time to take in his rag-tag appearance before the younger was leaning down in front of him, palms flat on the edge of his desk, face threateningly close to his own._

"_You told him?" Ed hissed, lingering somewhere between a question and a threat. Mustang blinked in disorientation and an accusatory finger came up to meet him, centimetres away from touching his skin. "You told him that– That–"_

"_That you'd given up your humanity?" Mustang finished. Ed threw his hands up in the air in exasperation._

"_Exactly that! I said _not _to!"_

"_Did you expect to hide this from him forever?" Ed flinched visibly at 'forever'. Forever was a long time when you had all the time in the world. "He was going to notice eventually, and it was better he know now than later. It's been almost a year, Fullmetal. Alphonse was going to have to know about this, and if you wouldn't tell him, then someone had to." Ed dropped onto the couch, energy spent. He held his face in his hands, elbows propped up on his legs._

"_I just want to keep him safe."_

"_You can't protect him forever. He has to grow up sometime."_

"_But… I want for him to move on. To be the person he could have been if none of this ever happened. And now he can't, he's trying to find a way to fix me."_

"_Ed, a person can't fix what isn't broken. And Alphonse is just learning alkahestry; you know he wanted to learn about it since he met May Chang."_

"_His reasons behind it though are what concern me. He thinks he can expel _it_ using the techniques he's learning."_

"_Maybe he can, maybe he can't. Let him live and learn."_

"_That's just it! He's doing this for me when he should be learning for himself! I don't want him to waste his life trying to fix me."_

"_Then talk with him when he comes back to visit. In the meantime, Fullmetal, I believe you owe me some reports."_

* * *

_ Next chapter: Epoch_

Guest: Thank you very much.


	6. Epoch

A/N: God, you people make me feel so loved. Eleventh fic published but this is my most popular. And it's only six chapters long now. People can still guess as to which character was removed, and you can still request for an edited version of Amaranthine. Thanks to: Okami Endless, Takei Daloui, Guest, SupaCrazee, Guest, Burning Tortoise, demonicfate616, Kohaku the Otaku, Luna 13, Eron Elric aka the malchemist, Son Luna, DemonRaily.

**Warning: German accent (do I need to warn you anymore?). Alchemy. Science. Mentions of blood.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Epoch**

Epoch – noun; 1, a particular period of time marked by distinctive features or events; 2, the beginning of a distinctive period in the period of anything; 3, a point of time distinguished by a particular event or state of affairs, a memorable date; 4, _(Geology)_ any of several divisions of a geologic period during which a geologic series is formed; 5, _(Astronomy) _an arbitrarily fixed instant of time or date; 6, _(Astronomy)_ the mean longitude of a planet as seen from the sun at such an instant or date; 7, _(Physics)_, the displacement form zero at zero time of a body undergoing simple harmonic motion

* * *

"_Time and tide wait for no man."_

–_Geoffrey Chaucer_

* * *

The first thing, though not literally, Ed did after waking up was take a shower. He rustled up his clothes, which had been taken and cleaned by the house elves the night before, roughly shoved his glasses on his face and covered his hands before leaving to find the staff showers. That was a great relief for him; he didn't think he could take it if he had to share with the students. It would be very difficult to get anything done with them staring. Yes, very difficult indeed.

The water was scathingly hot on his skin and served well to wake him up from the remaining dregs of sleep. His stomach growled loudly as he turned the faucet off, encouraging him to finish up quickly so he could eat breakfast. Walking down there was fairly troublesome; he was not used to such attention from anyone, really. Stares and whispers followed him in the corridors and generated in the Great Hall as he sat down. Piercing glares did little to dissuade the curious and he conceded with a sigh. He sat down next to Minerva, who had taken Pomona's seat from the night before. She was reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, the popular British wizarding newspaper cracking open a hard boiled egg when he sat down.

"Rough night?"

"Not at all." No, his sleep had been fine that night. Ed blinked as he remembered something. "Vvy vere you zere? At zee hoschpital, I mean."

"I was visiting a few old students of mine. The Headmaster had also sent Remus an application for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he turned it down."

"I see."

He wasn't sure why she trusted him, but he was certain there was more to it than that. But it wasn't his business, and though he burned with curiosity, it was stamped down and he piled his plate with food to eat.

Briskly walking back to his classroom after having finished, Ed recalled the schedule that he had set. It could barely be called a schedule; the only clear points were the beginning of the year and the end. They would begin with basic things: the periodic table, practicing drawing, some physical training and the meaning of 'All is One, One is All'. He couldn't take it to the point that Teacher had, of course, but he could utilize the most important points. Everything is interconnected and that, to train the mind, you must train the body. The end of the year would be whatever tests he decided to write up, but would most certainly consist of a written and practical exam.

He didn't have very high hopes for the students themselves, especially those of the older years. Magic was, quite clearly, isolated from the normal world, and many magic-users deemed science 'unnecessary'. Well, alchemy was a science and was all about science, so either they got it or they didn't. And he'd been proven wrong before, just much less as time passed.

With nothing else to do until class began at eight, Ed lounged in his desk chair. It wasn't long until students were filing in, all first years. He grimaced upon seeing the Malfoy boy come in with his two bodyguards, but schooled his face into a more neutral expression as Harry and Ron entered a minute later. At least the class wouldn't be boring. Once everyone had sat down at the back of the classroom, Ed stood up.

"How are you goink to learn," he asked, "iv you are all at zee back ov zee room? Move up, come on, move up." The class reluctantly moved closer, save for Granger, Ron and Harry, who had already been at the front of the room. "All right, voo here can tell me vat alchemy is?" Granger's hand immediately shot into the air and Ed pointed at her.

"Alchemy is a dead magic used to create gold and other precious metals," she recited, straight from the books they had been assigned. The same books that Ed had protested against, seeing as they were scarily inaccurate. Ed gave her a toothy, almost feral grin and Hermione couldn't help but feel a chill of fear.

"No."

"That's what it says in the book, sir. I enumerated it verbatim."

"And your books are useless here." There was no point of the higher level of vocabulary, he wanted to add; this was alchemy, not English class. "I told zee Headmaschter zat zee books vere no good, but he insischted. Can anyone else tell me vat alchemy is? No?"

Ed pulled a drawer open from his desk and pulled out a glass jar filled with white powder inside. He placed it on an empty desk in front of the chalkboard so the entire class could see it.

"Zis is a chemical called silver nitrate. It is dangerous and is very toxic to humans; it is corrosive, meanink it can cause burns, will cause eye damage on contact viz one's eyes, can color zee skin zrough briev exposure, and vill explode on contact viz ezanol. Its chemical compound is AgNO3. Zis is important because one-vivz ov zis is elemental silver.

"Alchemy is zee _scientivic_ process of manipulatink existink materials into anozer vorm zrough zree steps: comprehension, deconschtruction and reconschtruction. Zis is not Transviguration, nor schould I see any vorm ov Transviguration in zis classroom, to varn you now. But, usink alchemy, I can turn zis silver nitrate into silver and nitrate."

Sticking his hand into the drawer again, Ed pulled out two more objects: a box of chalk sticks and a small block of rusting iron, about the size of Ed's palm. They were placed onto the table, next to the jar of silver nitrate. He brushed off the rust flakes so the gray metal shined underneath, proving it was indeed iron. A stick of chalk was removed from its package and was put to immediate use, being used to outline an array. Ed talked as he drew, informing the class as to what exactly he was doing.

"By drawink an array, an alchemist can control zee reactions and vorms ov a compound or element. Viz zee array I am drawink, I vill vorcevully separate zee nitrate vrom zee silver and make it combine viz zee iron, so it vill vorm a mostly save compound. Zen I vill have pure silver and iron nitrate once zee transmutation is complete."

With the last curve drawn, Ed moved the chalk out of the way and opened the jar of silver nitrate. A pile of flakes was dumped onto the center of the array, and was soon joined by the block of iron. He placed his hands down on the edge of the array, away from the dangerous chemical, and grinned as the familiar blue sparks shot out from the chalk, arcing along the array and the materials inside. The lightning danced along the iron and silver, and before everyone's eyes, the iron morphed from a solid grey into a pale violet crystalline, reminiscent of quartz, save for the opaqueness of the crystals, and the softer hue of the grains.

"Zat, Miss Granger, is alchemy."

Hermione, along with the rest of the class, was far too distracted by the lingering alchemical energy and its products to notice what the professor had said. Taking the moment he had, Ed took up the chalk he had drawn the array with minutes ago and began writing on the blackboard. The clickity-clack of the limestone against the board gradually drew everyone's attention. The snap as it was set down had definitely caught everyone, alerting those who hadn't been paying attention well enough to know that class was still going on. Adorned on the board, behind the teacher who was dusting his hands free of chalk, were the words 'All is One, One is All'. Ed jerked a thumb behind him.

"You all have one mons to underschtand vat zis means. Anyone zat does not vigure it out vill be pulled out ov zee class viz a vailink grade. No exceptions." Ed sat down at his desk, leaning the chair back on its feet and propped his own up on the desktop, clasping his hands behind his head. "You may use zee rest ov zee class vor zat purpose."

Hushed whispering ensued as the students began to talk amongst themselves. Rustling came from Hermione, who was flipping through the pages of her book in a vain attempt to determine just how wrong the author was in their writings. Ed watched over them all carefully, making mental notes as to who was slacking off and who was actually making an attempt to understand the riddle. The class, equally composed of each of the four houses, did not seem so different from the classes Ed had taught before, in Munich and elsewhere.

There were the dedicated studiers, the slackers, the passive passers and the passive failures. And none of the houses were entirely defined by one of the four categories; contrary to popular belief, there were several Ravenclaws that were slackers and two others at the very least that had no hope at all of wrapping their minds around the complexities behind alchemy. Despite the popular rumor of Hufflepuffs being quite lacking in the intelligence department, a good number present in the current class had quickly proved to be quite bright, judging by their current conversation. One of them was within striking distance of solving the riddle, in fact.

Ed was so distracted with his line of thought that he didn't notice someone holding their hand up until they began yelling.

"Professor!" Granger shouted, startling the blond enough that he fell out of his chair. The furniture toppled over, spilling its occupant out into the wall behind it, where his head cracked into the stone. There was a bright flash of red light and the sound of muffled curses before Ed popped over his desk, glaring at the offending Gryffindor.

"Vat?" he asked, irritated.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, eyes wide and face paling.

"I vould be iv you didn't yell at me," he grumbled, one hand patting at the back of his head. He brought his hand back around and, upon inspecting it, found the white fabric adorned with crimson. Looking back, the wall was also similarly painted. "Huh. Must've hit my head harder zan I zought," he remarked. Ed pulled the glove off his hand and rummaged through the desk drawers for another glove. Seeing the girl staring at him, Ed asked, "You needed somezink, Granger?" A glove was found and he flexed his fingers as he pulled it on.

"Uh... Yes, yes I did. How much of the book is wrong? In context to what you'll be teaching us?"

"Just about all ov it," Ed answered nonchalantly, standing his chair back up.

"All of it?" The brunette had gone from fearful to furious in milliseconds. "What was the point of us buying these then?"

"I don't know, perhaps you schould ask your Headmaschter. He had insisted on zee books, avter all."

Hermione frowned at the response. She didn't like how their teacher was so easily pushing the blame on Dumbledore, but if what he said was true, and she had no reason to doubt him, then he wasn't truly blaming him but rather clearing up the matter. But it made no sense for the Headmaster to insist on books that were essentially garbage in this room.

"Your name?" Ed asked, pointing at another student that had raised their hand.

"Ernie Macmillan, sir. Why are you wearing gloves and sunglasses indoors? It's not winter or summer, sir." Ed tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"I see no reason to schare my reasons viz you," he said. "It is more ov a habit and a matter ov insurance zan anyzing else. Anyone have an answer, yet?" he asked, voice rising in volume with the question.

No one raised their hand or made any move to indicate a positive response. The blond shook his head in disappointment as the school bell rang and the students packed their things, ready to move on to their next classes. He stretched as the last student left before turning to the wall he had hit earlier. As expected, it was entirely clear of blood. He walked over to the desk by the blackboard and lifted the solid puddle of silver and the iron nitrate off the desk, cleaning off the surface.

The two objects were set down and Ed clapped his hands together, as though in prayer, before touching them to the puddle and crystal. Both returned to their former states, with the silver nitrate safely inside its jar once more and the iron rust-free. Everything was put back to where it belonged, with the box of chalk being placed on the blackboard rack and the formerly blood-stained glove being put away in his desk.

Just as the glove was stashed away, a series of taps and clicks resounded from the window. Turning his head, Ed spotted a tawny bird fluttering there, flapping its wings in impatience from its perch upon the window sill. He strode over and threw the window doors open, letting the cool air waft into the room and giving the bird access. The bird flapped onto his shoulder, just like every other one of its kind had done when delivering letters to him. They preferred– no, _loved _his shoulder over any other possible perch. Ed untied the letter tied to its leg as the bird cooed in contentment.

He moved back over to his desk to rummage around some more and stood up, an owl treat in hand. The bird greedily snatched it up and flew away with its prize in hand, er, beak. Opening the letter, Ed quickly read the familiar scrawl which invited him down to Hagrid's hut on Friday, in the afternoon. Then he knew the giant of a man was up to something.

But he couldn't simply refuse, so on Friday afternoon, just a touch before three o' clock, Ed was walking across the school grounds, headed towards Hagrid's home. He hadn't asked the groundskeeper what exactly he had been up to, preferring instead to keep it a surprise. He figured –he _hoped_- that it wouldn't kill him. Considering this was Hagrid, who Ed already knew believed many dangerous monsters to be cuddly, there was a good chance that whatever his surprise was may attempt to maul him to death. He gave the boots and the crossbow sitting against the wall the barest of glances before knocking on the door three times. The door opened and Ed pivoted on his right foot, turning his body left so he faced the Forbidden Forest, catching a glimpse of one one-hundred pound greyhound as it flew past.

The dog landed on the ground before whipping around, barking at Ed and jumping again. This time Ed turned on his left foot so he was facing the wall, the boots and the crossbow. The dog stopped short of smacking its face into the hut and Hagrid grabbed the hound by its collar, restraining it in its attempts to get to Ed's face.

"Sorry, Ed, yeh know Fang gets a little over excited when yer here."

"It's all right Hagrid. No harm done."

Ed followed Hagrid into his home, Fang whimpering and licking his nose. He stared pleadingly up at Edward who had to look away. For some reason, dogs just loved to tackle him to the ground and attempt one of three things: lick his face, steal his belongings, or attempt both. The greyhound, realizing that the alchemist wouldn't allow for him to come close, satisfied himself with laying his head in and drooling on another one of Hagrid's guest's lap.

"Hi Ed- I mean Professor," Harry said.

"Ve're not in class, you might as vell call me Ed." Hagrid shooed his third guest an empty seat while he took the last one. "So, zis is vat you vere plannink?"

The last part, directed at Hagrid, led the taller one to nervously chat with Ron about his older brother, who was in Romania with dragons. Ed listened on, keeping on a careful lookout for Fang. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Harry pick up an old Daily Prophet clipping and read it, still affording his lookout more attention. Sure enough, Fang was creeping back around the table, but with a look from Ed, slunk back over to Harry.

"Ed," Harry suddenly said, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It could've happened while we were there!"

Ed grunted and held one hand out for the clipping. He scanned it quickly and shook his head, giving it back. He had warned Dumbledore about playing with fire, and now the old man was going to get burned.

* * *

"_I promised Al, that I would get you back your body. And I did."_

"_But brother-"_

"_There are no buts about it. It's… It's just going to take me a little longer to die, okay?"_

_Golden eyes looked up into his and he had to look away after just seconds. He couldn't bear to see the pain in his younger brother's eyes, especially when it was his fault. But now, there was nothing anyone could do._

"_After we go… After we pass through the Gate, will you watch over any kids we might have?"_

"_What!?" Al laughed, and Ed felt a soft smile on his face. Only his brother could make him feel so happy, or even so guilty if he chose._

"_I heard that the Brigadier-General is going to ask for Hawkeye's hand. So if any of us do have kids, and anything happens to us, will you watch over them?"_

_A moment passed in silence; Ed was looking down at the floor, the tiled squares blatantly greeting him. He hated hospitals with a passion, and only his brother could make him willingly enter one. Only his brother could make Ed do a lot of things, in fact, and he was the only one Ed would give so much up for. He was the older brother; he had to take care of Al no matter the consequences._

"_All right."_

_Arms wrapped around his shoulders and, startled, Ed looked up to see Al hugging him. The younger boy pulled back with a characteristic smile on his face, which was still too thin for Ed's liking. His eyes opened and Ed was hit with a feeling of nostalgia for the old days, before any of this happened. Before the military was associated with the Elrics; before they had performed human transmutation; even before their father had left; all the way back before the start of it all. Back when the worst you could do was little at all, but life moves on. With or without you._

* * *

Not my favorite flashback, honestly. The next update will be Saturday, because spring break is over and I have an education to receive.

_Next chapter: Circumnavigation_

Guest: Got any ideas? It would be funny, but I'm not too much of a comedian.

Guest: That's already been settled, but thank you for your input.


	7. Circumnavigate

A/N: We're halfway through now, six chapters to go! Eh, over halfway, but since when did I care? Thanks go out to: TartKiwiFruit, Tiger Box, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, Luna 13, Son Luna, Burning Tortoise, demonicfate616, Guest, SupaCrazee, The OMG Cat, Takei Daloui, Blitza.

**Warning: Minor injury. Mentions of insanity. Mentions of torture. One flashback. Some romance.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Circumnavigation**

Circumnavigation – verb (used with object); 1, to sail or fly around the earth; 2, to make a circuit by navigation; 3, to go or maneuver around

* * *

"_The Guide says that there is an art to flying," said Ford, "or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss."_

–_Douglass Adams, "Life, the Universe, and Everything"_

* * *

"Zee drill is same as bevore. Vigure out zee phrase."

The bell had already rung and Ed was sitting in his chair, checking off names as he scanned the classroom. If anyone dared to skip his class, then they would be assigned homework. So much of it that they would be buried in papers until the day they died, and would leave them thinking thrice before they even _considered_ skipping again. They didn't know this, of course, but that was why he didn't tell them. It would be a very nasty surprise for any student who thought they could skip his class.

Ed had propped his feet up on his desk again while he had been checking off the names, and once he finished, he threw the sheet aside and swung his legs off his desk, catching the back of his chair before it could fall to the floor. The students were talking again, except Granger, who sat alone with her frustration. Ed sat down in the empty seat at her desk as the girl threw down her book and huffed angrily at it.

"Havink trouble?"

She didn't move, except to turn a disdainful glare onto the offending piece of literature. He pushed one finger onto it, pulling it over by the corner. _Alchemy: Study and Application_, by Isaac Frollo. Ah yes, the piece of garbage. Ed was well acquainted with Frollo's publishing, knowing how well the man had 'studied'. He hadn't even known that hydrogen was the first element; it was shameful to give the man the title of author, let alone alchemist. Ed snorted derisively at the book.

"Zee man's an idiot," he commented. "He doesn't know anyzink about alchemy. Miss Granger, iv you are so concerned about zee, ah, usevulness ov zis book, why do you not look in zee library vor a better text?"

"There are books on alchemy?" she asked, awed. She was so very hopeful for some help, he couldn't deny her help.

"Yes, zere are." One hand rested on the back of his neck nervously; he didn't like the look Granger was giving him. It was too... submitting, for lack of a better word. "I could show you some, iv you like."

"Yes, that would be so very helpful," she agreed gleefully.

The two of them spent lunch that day in the library, with Ed suggesting different tomes for the brunette to study and commenting on different articles and opinions the authors had included. He was careful to keep them basic, and didn't include any that mentioned human transmutation or chimeras. Fortunately, few of the books had such details, even at the barest of levels. It was also there that Ed had met up with Madame Hooch, who had lost her mind in a quiet fit of rage once Quidditch was brought up. She had spouted off a large number of rules that required all teachers to have flying experience unless excused by a medical condition. Ed hoped that he would be excused, but chose anonymity over avoidance. The fewer secrets Dumbledore knew about him, the better. So it was that Thursday that Ed was being unwillingly forced into flying lessons with the first years, leaving the blond in a horrible mood.

"Professor Elric?" a voice called out to him. He looked up at the approaching group of students, a scowl on his face. He had already determined that flying was not going to be a grand experience. "Why are you here?"

"Clause Thirty-One dash Twelve dictates that all teachers must know how to ride a broom, and the professor here has never ridden before," Hooch answered. "Everyone stand by a broom," the Quidditch expert squawked, impatient to get everyone ready, "hold your wand hand over it and shout 'Up!'"

The command echoed throughout the air as each student and Ed tried their luck at it. Some had received their brooms immediately, the wood thrumming and eager to fly. It was disturbing to those who had never held a broom before, much less fly. Others were not so lucky; most had rolled over, quivered nervously on the grass or did nothing at all. A number of students had given up on commanding the broom and picked it up by hand after a few tries. Some had kept going at it, usually catching the wooden handle on the second or third attempt. Either way, once everyone had their mount in hand, Hooch walked up and down the lines, correcting grips on her way.

"Alright," she called out, after arguing with Malfoy as to how a broom should be correctly held, "once I blow my whistle, you will kick off the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise up a few feet, and come back down by leaning forward slightly. One, two, thr–"

A half-second too early, Neville kicked off the ground. The kid was probably nervous, this being no wonder for him. Ed, who was standing next to Neville, grabbed at the tail end of the rocketing broom and dropped his own, where it hovered at waist height. Neville's broom tugged at Ed's weight, but didn't manage to lift him very far. It was clear that it was struggling to lift their combined weight and had only made it five feet into the air, Ed's broom floating higher with them like a loyal dog, staying close to the teacher's side. Neville's broom, having enough of them, suddenly gave up and dropped the both of them to the ground. Ed barely grabbed his broom as the other fell to the earth like a rock. Neville had lost his grip on his and Ed had barely managed to catch his robes, but they ripped and the boy fell to the earth after his broom. He hit the hard-packed earth with a wince-worthy crack. Ed's broom lowered to the ground, not nearly as fast as Neville had gone but fast enough that Ed could inspect what damage had been done before Hooch. The injured Gryffindor had a dislocated, possibly broken wrist; a light touch the area made Neville let out a pained whimper.

"A broken or dislocated wrist," Ed informed the referee. "I'll brink him over to zee Hoschpital Ving; someone needs to vatch over zee schtudents."

Hooch nodded in agreement and helped the two up, Neville clutching tightly at Ed's hand with his good one. He let the teacher lead him back into the castle, both of them quiet until they had truly entered the halls.

"Sir?" Neville's voice was streaked with pain, but his tone was urgent.

"Yes, Mister...?"

"Longbottom, sir. I wanted to ask you something."

"Vire away."

"Have you... Have you ever seen someone die?" The question took him by surprise, but he took it in stride.

"I have."

"Well... my parents... They were driven insane by Death Eaters," he whispered. The professor didn't know what Death Eaters were, but they sounded bad, based on how Neville was reacting to the name. His voice quivered as he had spoken and his face was paler than it had been before.

"Vat do you vant me to say? 'I'm sorry?' Pity von't get you anyvere."

"No!" he almost shouted, a scandalized look etched on his face. "No– that's not–" He took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted your advice, on what to do."

"All right, but virst, vyy did you ask me? Zere are ozer teachers zat could give you advice just as vell as I could."

"I-I felt like I could trust you." Neville shrank back as he answered, something akin to fear passing over his face. "That you had been through something like this before." Ed nodded in understanding and agreement, and the first year relaxed slightly with the confirmation.

"Move on, ov course. Iv you have to, live your live vor zem. Do vat you have to, but make live worz it, vor yourselv and zose you care about most."

Just in time, they had come to the Hospital Wing. Ed directed Neville into the long hall, and the boy mouthed a 'thank you' at him before talking with the nurse, Madame Pomfrey. He turned around and saw Madame Hooch, directing two Gryffindor boys. Apparently, after Ed had left, they had attempted to duplicate Neville's feat and managed to not only land on top of one another, but also on their brooms, which had miraculously escaped unharmed.

"Vait a minute," he interrupted. "Iv you're here, and I'm here, zen voo is viz zee schtudents?"

Fear flashed through Hooch's eyes at the realization and they both raced back outside as fast as their legs could carry them. Ed made it first, skidding to a halt in the grass and brought up clods of dirt as he went from about forty to zero. Harry nimbly landed on the ground a moment later, a pale orb clutched in his hand. He looked rather delighted until he looked up and found not one, but three teachers in the immediate vicinity.

"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts," Minerva was spitting, Hooch a step behind. "You, Professor Elric–"

"Was escorting an injured student to the Hospital Wing when this happened, Minerva," Hooch interrupted. "He had just gotten out here moments before us." Minerva frostily glared at the blond before returning her anger to Harry.

"Harry just-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"Malfoy, he-"

"Enough from you, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me now."

Minerva walked back to the school, a dejected Harry in tow. Five or six Slytherins had gleeful looks on their faces while the others were neutral or upset. Most of the Gryffindors were glowering at their rivals, despite the fact that it seemed only one of them was responsible for getting Harry into trouble.

"Malfoy took Neville's Remembrall, sir," the Patil girl confirmed. "Harry went after him to get it back, but Malfoy threw it into the air and Harry barely caught it."

"I see. Madame Hooch," Ed called over, "one ov zee schtudents has committed an invraction, and I vould like your permission to punisch them, seeink as how zey broke zee rules vhile vee vere gone but zey are under your supervision."

"All right," she said, waving him off so she could talk to one of the other students who had a question.

Ed grinned in delight and swiftly toed an array into the dirt. He didn't have to, per se, but it was better than allowing the students to know he didn't need to draw an array at all to perform alchemy. His hands came down onto the lines and the now-familiar alchemical light came to life and played across the ground, like dogs nipping at each other's heels. The lightning came across its target and gathered up around Malfoy before a large section of the dirt below swallowed him, pulling him under until only his head was left visible. With the exception of the slight lump of displaced earth around him, nothing had changed. Well, that is if you didn't count the pale blond head sticking out of the earth like some human-plant.

"Hey! Get me out of here!" Malfoy struggled from inside the prison, but the dirt was packed together too tightly for him to do much more than move his neck and head. "I'll- I'll-"

"You'll do nozink, Mister Malvoy," the alchemist finished, crouching down by the head. "You vlew on a broom ven you schouldn't have, and zis is your punischment. Or vould you prever to pickle roots and animals vor your head ov house?"

He shook his head harshly and Ed smiled. He stood up and returned to the lesson with the rest of the students, leaving Malfoy to think about what he had done. Of course, it wouldn't last long. Ed was never that lucky and the Slytherin boy was far too pig-headed.

At dinnertime, long after he had been released from his prison, Malfoy was conspicuously standing by the Gryffindor table, Crabbe and Goyle by his side like always. There was a quick flare of an argument as Ron, who he seemed to be talking to, stood up and snapped something back. The other seemed to let it go and returned to his table, decidedly smug. Ron had sat back down and started talking again, and Ed hoped the little incident was nothing important. Ed finished up quickly left, having some research he wanted to check over. In the entrance hall, Snape, who had just left the Great Hall, caught and tugged the edge of Ed's jacket. It was a little unorthodox for the Potions teacher, but he and Ed had had some fairly long conversations about their respective subjects before, and Severus was well acquainted with how engrossed the Elric could get with anything he was interested with. Feeling the tug on his clothing, Ed looked up and saw the Potions master.

"We have patrol tonight, Elric." Ed nodded, expecting this to happen sooner or later.

"Ven do vee schtart?"

"At ten; you'll start on the third floor up to the Charms corridor."

The day simply got worse. Or tomorrow, since it was actually midnight. But it still got worse when Ed was nearing the Charms corridor for the third time that night. There was the sound of distant crashing and suddenly four students came running through the wall. Ed stood there in shock, unsure if he was hallucinating. At least until Peeves had flown through a classroom door, yelling like a siren.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" he shouted. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

With that confirmation Ed ran after where he had last seen the students, quickly catching up to them. Unfortunately for them, they had gone down the third corridor and had stopped at none other than Fluffy's door. The giant, three headed Cerberus that didn't take kindly to anyone but Hagrid. Ed hadn't tested his luck with the beast and preferred not to push it, either. The door opened and the four ran in before it swung shut with a click. Ed ran faster and caught the door handle. It refused to turn, and he pulled his wand out of his sleeve, performed an unlocking spell, and threw the door open just in time to see the three fluffy heads that were Fluffy, acidic spittle dripping from its maw, lunge for the students. Ed yanked them back as the chain keeping the dog back caught on one of its necks and it stopped with a sharp yelp, one head wincing in pain while the other two glared on. The door was shut and relocked so that the three pairs of baleful eyes looked upon them no longer before Ed turned his own gaze onto the students, who all looked away guiltily. Neville was more fearful than guilty, but even so.

"Start talkink."

Ron immediately launched into an explanation of how Malfoy had challenged Harry to a duel and that he, Ron, had accepted for his friend. Granger then came in, saying that she had overheard them and she tried to stop them by waiting out in the corridor, but when she tried to get back in the common room, the Fat Lady had left, leaving them outside as well. Neville had been locked out for hours, since he had forgotten the password after returning from the Hospital Wing.

"Vat am I goink to do viz you vour?" he muttered to himself, not failing to miss the collective flinches from the four first years. "You are all idiots, leavink zee common room. Except you, Neville; you had been locked out. You two, Harry, Ron; you schould have known zat Malvoy vas up to no good. He has never been, and likely vill not be. Miss Granger, you had simply tried keep zese two out of trouble. You need more vriends like her," he finished, speaking to Harry and Ron specifically with the last sentence. "I'll brink you back to your common room, but do not even _zink_ ov comink back here again."

No one spoke a word until they had reached the Fat Lady, the guardian of the Gryffindor tower and common room, and even that was only the password. Perhaps they could feel the disappointment coming off of Ed. Whatever the case, none of them could meet his eye when he turned back to them one last time, choosing instead to silently shuffle past and climb into the portrait hole. The Fat Lady swung back shut after Neville climbed through and treated the retreating alchemist with one last bewildered look before he turned the corner and disappeared.

* * *

"_You may now kiss the bride."_

_Ed couldn't help but grin as his brother swept up his betrothed, literally off her feet. When they parted, her veil was up and off her face and Al had a crazy grin on his face, just like the time Ed dared him to eat six of those little sugary candy spheres at once and got a horrible bad sugar rush off of it. He'd ended up puking it all up later, but Al was nuts while trying to work off the sugar rush. The noise of the celebration was almost muted to him, barely reaching his ears as Al carried off his new wife, in the traditional bridal style. Al slid Winry into the car waiting for them, before moving in next to her and shutting the door. The car immediately drove off, taking the newly wedded to wherever it was Al had in mind for the after-marriage party. Ed's smile turned sad as his thoughts changed direction, something Roy seemed to pick up next to him._

"_Something wrong, Fullmetal?"_

_Ed didn't answer at first, choosing to think about his answer before giving it away. He was happy for Al, of course, but this was just another example of Al growing up. Of him getting older, older than Ed would ever be, no matter how long he lived. And one day, he would be left behind in the dust, holding the shovel and standing before his brother's grave. It was sobering, now, but sure to be worse when the day came._

"_Just thinking about the future; about what's going to happen."_

"_Put the thoughts off for now, shorty. Today is supposed to be a happy day."_

_Ed ignored the short comment, not wanting to startle everyone gathered. They were now leaving, for the party that Ed wouldn't attend. He was busy today, and it was only because of Mustang's connections that it could have been put off this long. Ed shrugged off his black suit jacket and transmuted it back to his favorite form, red with the Flamel cross adorned across the back. Everyone but the two alchemists was gone now, to revel in the celebration. Roy extended one gloveless hand to the elder Elric, an oddly final gesture._

"_Be seeing you, Fullmetal. Make this one short."_

_Ed scowled and slapped away his superior's hand, who laughed at the aggressive response. He walked behind the shorter, stopping in the threshold. Ed looked back, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He ignored it as best as he could and kept walking, never stopping until he was well out of sight._

* * *

_Next chapter: Antagonized_

TartKiwiFruit: Well, alchemy _is_ science. I actually had a conversation about before, with my Chemistry teacher in high school. Neither of us knew it at the time, but we were talking about alchemy. Took me about three months to realize it, but better late than never. I don't know if he ever did...

Guest: Ah. All right then. Hope this update makes you happy.

The OMG Cat: I know, it makes me think of Pocky.


	8. Antagonize

A/N: Thanks go out to: Tiger Box, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, Son Luna, Guest, Demon Raily, demonicfate616, Luna 13, Guest, Guest, S.N. Rainsworth, The OMG Cat, BlueRoseRabbit, Eron Elric aka the malchemist.

**Warning: One flashback. Some mentions of fighting. **

* * *

**Chapter 8: Antagonized**

Antagonized – verb (used with object, without object); (with object) 1, to make hostile or unfriendly; 2, to act in opposition to; (without object) _(Rare)_ to act antagonistically

* * *

"_You cannot antagonize and influence at the same time."_

–_John Knox_

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, much to the disappointment and anger of a certain Slytherin. His receiving a package that was required no less than six screech owls to carry only darkened the boy's mood, and once he followed Harry and Ron out to the entrance hall, Ed abandoned his bagel and went after them, if only to stop the fight before it began. Finding Professors Flitwick and McGonagall keeping the first years busy, he continued on to his classroom, forgetting about breakfast. It was the last day of term, and there were still students that hadn't solved the riddle he had given them back on the first day of school

A half hour of doodling arrays later, Ed was standing by the door, shutting it rather loudly as the students took their seats. The students, used to his somewhat eccentric behavior, didn't as much as flinch. He sat down in his seat and cleared his throat loudly as the noise began to escalate.

"Today is zee lascht day zat you can solve zee riddle, and at ten tonight, you vill lose your last chance. Anyone voo has not given a correct answer vill be dropped vrom zee class viz a vailink grade."

Several students looked fairly guilty, not having an answer for him, while the others were passive, being successful in their own attempts to solve the riddle. Granger, who had long ago given up on her faulty book, was finishing some homework for another class, a more accurate alchemy book patiently awaiting her ministrations. The other students were doing the same, although they clearly weren't planning on reading once their work was finished. Ed was filing papers, grading the odd paper that he had received from some overeager students. Twice, during the class, a student had an answer for him; the first was correct, the second wrong. Like everyone else that had answered correctly, he had cursed them so they would lose their ability to speak if they blabbed until the curse was lifted. They were warned, though not of what exactly the curse would do. Ed did not like loose ends walking around.

After finishing all his paper work, the teacher elected to give into his boredom and lay his head in his hands for the rest of the period. It went by quietly, with no one else coming forward to answer. The next class passed by as well, without his notice. The days passed and melded together and the dreaded month came to pass.

October, as it was called now; the beginning and the end were worst, but the wait in between was almost as agonizing. On the third day of the month, all Alchemy classes were cancelled without notice. Students were to take the class as a study period, which would normally be spent somewhere on the grounds, in an unused classroom, or in the students' common rooms. The teachers were concerned for their colleague and when they could, searched the castle for him. Very few students searched, more concerned about their other classes than with an absent teacher.

Preferring solitude, Ed had wandered into the Forbidden Forest shortly after dawn. He was well aware that no one, save Hagrid and Dumbledore, and apparently the Weasley twins, dared to tread the woods. Ed ended up dozing on a tree branch for several hours, fairly deep into the forest. His legs were hanging over the edge, affording curious looks from whatever sparse creatures passed beneath or overhead. They weren't given any attention; he just wanted the day to pass, since it never got any easier to bear.

He was interrupted from his depression by a herd of centaurs dodging through the trees, training their foals for… whatever it was centaurs did. The younglings were herded into the center, with the older ones acting as a guard and trotting by the youngest. One of the older centaurs, farther ahead than the foals, spotted Ed and conferred with another of his kind; they passed the word around and slowed to a halt near him, the adults drawing wooden bows. He was afforded a great number of distrusting, almost hateful scowls. A centaur with chestnut colored skin and hindquarters warily cantered over, an arrow nocked into the bowstring, aimed at his chest.

"Who are you?" he demanded loudly. Probably the leader, Ed decided. He looked down at the herd from his perch, unconcerned.

"Carevul," he warned. "Or you might spoil zee hunt." The other adults snorted in defiance and anger.

"Who are you to command us what to do?" another yelled; he had a black body and darker skin, with black hair and a beard to match. "We should kill him!"

"Hold your fire," the first commanded. "Who are you to trespass on our territory, human?"

Ed gave a feral grin at that and thought of the scare he could give them. The centaur, disturbed by the wild look, backed away a few steps before he realized what he was doing. It wouldn't be fair, though, for Ed to disturb these beings because of his own dejection. He sighed and rested one hand against the trunk of the tree.

"I vork at zee school," he answered. "I came here to mourn in peace."

"Mourn," the chestnut centaur repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth. He slowly inclined his head before speaking. "I understand your reasoning. We shall leave you to your duty in peace. Centaurs, we hunt!"

The herd followed him deeper into the forest, the ground rumbling as they passed. The dark one glared at Ed and wheeled around, following the leader to wherever the herd normally took their hunt. After such a display of respect, the other intelligent creatures left Ed alone until well into the night, when he finally dropped down from the tree and walked stiffly back to the castle, where he fell into bed with a tumble and found sleep immediately, albeit riddled with nightmares.

* * *

Halloween was not a holiday Ed enjoyed by any means. He never liked them since his mother died, and didn't have to worry in his younger days as Amestris didn't have many holidays, period. Each region had its own local holidays, and most everyone celebrated the state holidays, but there weren't all that many together. He just couldn't get into the spirit people had around them because it reminded him of his mother, who was always certain to spend those special days with her two boys. And as the years passed, he became more and more withdrawn as the familiar celebrations approached.

Unfortunately, Halloween happened to be one of those days.

The holiday known by that name didn't exist. Rather, it was the last harvest day for many of the farm-based families in the town and was often accompanied with a huge celebration and feast before the first winter frosts set in. In the fall, one of Pinako's drinking buddies grew _the_ largest pumpkins the town had ever seen, (or would see, for that matter) and were used to make dozens of pies. Never as good as Winry's apple pie, of course. The celebration would have dancing and games, and the occasional drinking contest depending on what people had either home brewed or bought. With such a reminder on hand, Ed was depressed again with the closing of the autumn month.

Breakfast was skipped in favor of waiting in his classroom, for the bell to ring and the students to come to class. His stomach growled softly as he lounged around. When the bell did ring, and everyone had sat down, Ed was standing in front of the blackboard, a sheet of paper in hand.

"Ov zee vorty-nine virscht year schtudents voo had begun takink zis class, zirty ov you passed. Zee nineteen ov you zat vailed, get out. Go to your homerooms, I don't vant to see your vaces in here again." Of the nineteen that failed, ten were Ravenclaws, two were Hufflepuffs, three were Slytherins, and four were Gryffindors. "Zey didn't bozer to vind zee answer, so now zey vill not take zee class. Zee rest ov you are to learn zis–" Here Ed held up a sheaf of papers, which were dropped on Granger's desk, "–by zee next class. Zat gives you one veek."

The papers were handed out and, as they were inspected by the first years, were regarded in great confusion. The families that had an entirely magical childhood had virtually no experience with 'Muggle' classes, and would know almost nothing about science.

"And what exactly are we supposed to do with _this_?" Malfoy seethed, further proving the point. One hand held a sheet with the Periodic Table printed on it in black ink. "This is _science_. We're in a _magic_ school."

"And alchemy is science," Ed barked back. "Zee Headmaschter hired me to teach you alchemy, so zat is vat I am doing. Any more back talkink and I vill kick you out as vell." Malfoy shut his mouth, still glowering, but he could easily see the dark look in his teacher's eyes that was just begging for a reason to get rid of him. "Ven you are not learnink in here, vee vill be outside vor physical trainink. As my teacher taught me, 'you cannot train zee mind vizout virst trainink zee body'."

"Someone taught you alchemy, Professor?" Granger asked that, curious as usual.

"Sche taught me how to be a better person." His gaze turned distant and his masked slipped momentarily, giving away a deep-seated sadness before he returned his attention to the here and now. "You schould consider yourselves lucky; Teacher's mezods would not be considered 'acceptable' around here, so you get ovv razer easy. Iv I had my own vay, zen you vould all have learned as I did."

"How did she teach you?"

"Sche levt me and my brozer on an island vor a mons vizout any outside contact, leavink us viz a knive and vizout zee use ov alchemy. Vee vere to survive and underschtand zee same riddle I had given all ov you. Enough ov zat, ve're beginnink zee physical exercise portion ov your lessons today. Leave your stuvv in here."

The first years trooped outside, the sky clear overhead and the air carrying a slight chill from the encroaching winter. They were led out to the Quidditch pitch, where Ed stopped and faced them.

"To begin, you are to run laps around zee pitch. Zose ov you voo make vive laps can stop; anyone zat vails vill be given a mons' detention iv you do not make zee laps by zee end ov zee period. Schtart!"

There was no movement for the briefest of moments as his words sunk in. Then, as a whole, the entire class lurched to life and began running around the edge of the field. The teacher watched as they ran, yelling at any cheaters and slowpokes and put them back in their place. He was disappointed to find out that the most laps anyone had run was three, all of them Muggleborns or having been raised by Muggles, as was Harry's case. The half-bloods were by far better in their physical exercise than the pure-bloods as a whole.

There were some exceptions, but no pure-blood had managed to run an entire three miles and then some. The best runners were all Gryffindors: Granger, Harry, and two other kids named Seamus and Dean. Granger had later admitted to having some practice in running track; she used to run cross country with her parents in the summer, and went skiing in the winter. Harry had done plenty of running from Dudley and his friends. Seamus and Dean had played sports prior to their enrollment at Hogwarts.

Ed let the students off ten minutes before the bell, which left them plenty of time to shower and return to class to get their belongings. If all the students were in this shape, however, then they were just about hopeless. The rest of the day was dry as a desert, with nothing interesting happening in the later classes save for the Weasley twins' intervention. The two found it hilarious to drop little homemade explosives on the field as they ran, making people trip up as dirt clods flew into the air. Ed did nothing to stop them; if anything, it made the other students run faster and amused him at the same time.

Hogwarts' Halloween feast was legendary, but the alchemist was in no mood to actively participate. He wanted the day to be over so that October wouldn't roll around again for another year. Bats were fluttering down from the ceiling, squeaking and chattering at obnoxiously high pitches that hurt his ears when he came close to the staff table. Numerous giant pumpkins sat on every available surface, save for the house and staff tables; each one was gutted and stuffed with magically lit candles. The feast appeared with speed after the blond teacher sat down, though he did little more than poke at it. Really, he was almost relieved when the double doors opened and Quirrel half-walked, half-ran into the hall, turban askew and terror plastered onto his face. At least until he heard what the teacher had to say.

"There's a troll in the dungeons. Just thought you ought to know."

Quirrel fell to the floor in a dead faint, while the rest of the hall burst into an uproar. Dumbledore let off a show of attention-grabbing fireworks, above everyone's heads. With a sepulchral seriousness, he addressed the students below.

"Prefects, bring your houses back to the dormitories immediately!" Taking charge, the houses were led away in clumps by the prefects. Dumbledore addressed the teachers and ordered most of them to search the dungeons for the troll. He personally addressed Ed, ordering "Check on the Stone, and ensure that no one steals it. Severus has already gone ahead."

The Headmaster left with the other teachers, going after the troll. Ed rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and Disapparated out of the Great Hall. He didn't want to, not really, but the Stone was undoubtedly important and he wasn't going to let some crackpot try to steal it, let alone succeed. At least, not if he had a say in the matter. Besides, Dumbledore would probably have his head on a magically floating silver platter that slowly spun while moving through the air if he performed with anything less than his best. What Dumbles thought was his best, of course.

He Apparated in the third-floor corridor, standing just behind the Potions master who failed to notice the presence of his colleague. The black haired man opened the door, despite the obvious stress he was under. Ed knew he didn't want to face Fluffy; who in their right mind would want to? The thing had three heads, each the size of a tank, teeth larger than a grown man's head., and its body was probably as large as decent sized house. One paw would be enough to squish a person flatter than flat. They'd be so flat, they'd be one dimensional. The door opened again, surprising the blond, and he was run over by Quirrel, who hurried down the hall. Wait what the-

Ed picked himself up and found himself unable to do more than stare as the strange man disappeared around the corner. He was just in the Great Hall a minute ago and Ed had Apparated here, which takes less than a second. There was no conceivable way that Quirrel could have gone from the Great Hall to the third-floor corridor short of Apparating, and Ed was certain that only he and Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, could Apparate or Disapparate on school grounds. Unless there was something else going on...

The door slammed open and the downed teacher winced with the intensity of the crack as the wood made contact with unforgiving stone. He swiveled his head around and caught sight of Severus, who was hobbling out of the room with a snarl frozen on his face. Ed picked himself up off the ground, catching sight of the obvious bite wound that adorned the Potions master's leg as it passed in front of his face. It was definitely Fluffy's work; there was nothing else in the room, or possibly in existence, that could leave a bite wound that large or deadly.

Ed put one hand out, catching his colleagues chest, before squatting down so he was eye level with the bite wounds. He clapped his hands together and softly placed them onto the bloody appendage, ignoring both Severus' cries of protest and the ill-concealed hiss of pain. A soft blue light resulted, which immediately focused itself on the punctures, sealing, healing and disinfecting in seconds. The man gasped as his leg became numb with the rush of white-hot pain, which gave way to nothingness, leaving behind an uncomfortable tingling sensation. Ed rocked back on his heels, standing again as he moved.

"I cannot heal it entirely," he admitted, "but I can keep it vrom vallink viz invection."

Snape shakily moved forward, leg buckling slightly as he put weight on it. Ed moved forward to help and they managed a fast limp down to the dungeons. The movement eased the numb, tingling in his leg, and by the time they had discovered the troll's location, the Potions master could move confidently on his own, the bite wound only stinging now as the alchemy-induced anesthesia wore off.

There was little left of the bathroom other than rubble. The wall that had separated it from the corridor, making the room an actual room, was now lying at their feet in small pieces, mostly chunks of stone and granules of granite. Sinks had been knocked off the walls and toilets were unscrupulously hiding among what remained of the wall, shards of white porcelain crunching beneath their feet with every step further into the chaos. Broken pipes were spitting up water, most of their regurgitated contents already spilled onto the nearby flooring and walls. Several shattered mirrors adorned the wall to the left, most empty frames with the glass on the floor; one had a sink tap embedded in the center, the mirror otherwise intact. And somehow, in the midst of it all was an unconscious troll, its wooden club lying by its side, with three students standing by that could be recognized immediately.

A whimper came from behind the two and, upon turning, found it was Quirrel, who was clutching at his chest, sitting down on an overturned toilet. His face was pale as he gazed upon the pandemonium that was once a lavatory. Ed shoved his hands into his pockets, deeply unsettled by this all. One hand grasped a box of chalk that he had shoved into his jacket during one of his classes, only to be forgotten until then. Severus inspected the odorous creature while Minerva disciplined her students.

"Just what were you three thinking of?" she asked, spitting cold fury. "You're lucky that you weren't killed; why weren't you in your dormitories?"

An unexpected saviour came for the two boys, who looked quite guilty.

"Please, Professor. They were looking for me."

Granger, telling a lie; that was not something Ed could imagine, and he afforded her a sharp look. He knew a lie when he heard one, especially when the speaker was untrained. The girl's voice quavered as she began, which could be mistaken for emotional trauma, but smoothed out as she spoke.

"I went looking for the troll because I thought I could deal with it on my own. You know, because I'd read all about them."

Ron had dropped his wand on the ground, his mouth agape, though it was quickly shut and the wand scooped up. Harry looked equally astonished as he heard the lies coming from the Gryffindor girl, disbelief written all over his face and even easier to read than an open book. Either Minerva was downright ignoring this fact or she was denser than quark-gluon plasma, which is really saying something, seeing as how it's the densest thing in the known universe. But hey, they were her students, so whatever punishments she gave were final, unless Dumbledore overruled her.

"Miss Granger, you foolish girl; did you even think of what would have happened if you died?" Hermione had the sense to wince and look away with some level of guilt on her face. Perhaps she had been thinking just that. "Five points will have to be taken from Gryffindor. I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Granger, but if you're not hurt then go up to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing their feasts in their houses."

Granger, with her head lowered, picked her way through the rubble and disappeared from sight. As soon as she was gone, Minerva subjected the two boys to her wrath as well... Or not.

"I still believe that you are lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a fully-grown mountain troll and won, unscathed. Each of you will be awarded five points, but Professor Dumbledore will have to be informed of this. You may leave."

Ed slipped a hand into the chalk box, pulling a fresh piece out as the two boys walked past. He heard them walk out into the corridor but their footsteps suddenly stopped, not that anyone else had taken notice. They were probably sticking around for the show. The alchemist found a fair portion of stone mostly cleared of rubble, and touching the chalk to the ground, began drawing an array.

"Edward, what do you think you're doing?"

"Vixink zis place, ov course. I don't zink zee vemale schtudents vould appreciate zee lack ov a vall right over zere," he answered, waving a vague hand over at the empty space that had once held a wall.

He finished his array, which was moderately large, because of all the different materials that would have to be repaired and replaced. Once satisfied, he activated the array and the signature lightning went straight to work. It crawled along the floors and walls like a swarm of locusts, deconstructing the rubble beneath their feet and replacing it almost instantaneously. Sinks and toilets disappeared into white smoke that quickly dispersed before reforming and reconstructing themselves into the walls, the pipes resealing with their attachment. Time seemed to reverse itself as the mirrors repaired themselves, the cracks sealing from the edges into the center of the glass. The sink tap that had shattered one mirror followed the same process, dissolving into the air before finding itself reattached to its pedestal. The blue light died with ease, its work done. Quirrel whimpered again at the display of power while Ed used his foot to smudge out the array. Minerva took it upon herself to lead the disturbed man to the Hospital Wing.

"It vas Quirrel," Ed guessed after Minerva's sharp footsteps had faded.

Catching on immediately, Severus agreed: "It was. He's been after the Stone since he returned from Albania over the summer."

"Zen it is probably a good zink zat I couldn't care less," Ed responded with disturbing cheer. "It's Dumbledore's problem; he insischted on it being brought here, and now he's payink zee price."

With his hands in his pockets once more, the alchemist retreated from the bathroom. He decided that, if every Halloween was like this one from now on, then the end-of-October celebrations couldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

_Ed sat, cross-legged, in the middle of an array. It was clearly not intended for Amestrian alchemy; the design was all wrong for manipulating the elements or principals, but a skilled alchemist could read the circle, and understand that the effects were instead directed towards the blond in the middle. His hands rested flat on his knees and his chin was directed upwards, so his gaze, if his eyes were open, would be facing the wooden ceiling above him. At an unseen call or gesture, the array activated itself. The alchemical light began as a bright blue, deepened into a deep violet, before quickening into a sharp crimson, remaining the blood-red color with a strange sort of glee, the lightning at its fastest as it finalized itself. The Amestrian in the middle of it all didn't move, not even when the lightning jumped and clung onto him._

_The light suddenly died out, its energy source cut off. Ed opened his eyes and sighed, one hand reaching up to his chest. He could still feel it there, no matter his efforts. With a sore creak of his bones, he stood, carefully tiptoeing between the curves and shapes of the array. Taking one last look at it, checking for any mistakes he may have made, Ed turned away from the circle and walked out of the room. The halls were silent as he walked through, knowing exactly where he wanted to go, regardless of wherever his target was. He entered a great hall, larger than any he had ever seen before his coming here._

_Most of it was occupied by empty space, the pillars lining the walls silent sentinels of a single charge. Down at the end of the hall was a marble throne, and sitting in the throne was an Emperor. A very bored, very at-the-moment whiny Emperor who wanted something to do. Namely, eat, sleep, or fight someone, but his personal guard wouldn't let him. An Emperor was meant to lead, she insisted, not get themselves killed out of boredom. He laughed and said that he wouldn't let himself be killed so easily._

"_Ed!" he suddenly yelled, wanting to draw the conversation away from the direction it had been taking. "How'd it go?"_

"_It didn't, Ling," Ed answered, knowing that the Xingese Emperor was already aware of this. "I'll be heading back to Amestris tomorrow; I've got to hand in my reports and visit Al."_

"_Give him my condolences," Ling said, seeing the way Ed's face had changed as he spoke. Not regret, but maybe acceptance._

"_Yeah, yeah."_

_As Ed turned away from the throne, he heard Lan Fan make a noise from behind her position behind Ling. He knew he was one of the few people that could get away with dismissing the Emperor off so lightly and that rankled the girl to no end. He knew it, she knew it, Ling knew it, but it didn't change things. And for entirely different reasons, he didn't want it to._

* * *

_Next chapter: Introduction_

Guest: That's something I hate, when you find an amazing fic and it hasn't been updated for some odd years.

Guest: Since you're ignoring your first review, then I'll ignore what I assume to be your first review. And yes, Ed is.

The OMG Cat: Well... Not something I would expect, but alright then.


	9. Intoduction

**Edit: Some grammar stuff fixed, thanks to Supa Crazee.**

A/N: We're about three-fourths of the way through, now. I also have testing this month and next, so if updating goes a little bit weird, I apologize. Thanks to: demonicfate616, Demon Railey, Takei Daloui, BlueRoseRabbit, Sakura Lisel, SupaCrazee, BulletWitch1985, Wargamer08, Son Luna, Luna13, Review4U, The OMG Cat.

**Warning:**** Science. Flashback. Numerous mentions of numerous character deaths.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Introduction**

Introduction – noun; 1, the act of introducing or the state of being introduced; 2, a formal personal presentation of one person to another or others; 3, a preliminary part, as of a book, musical composition, or the like, leading up to the main part; 4, an elementary treatise; 5, an act or instance of inserting; 6, something introduced

* * *

"_Yes, life could be better. But it could also be worse. Don't believe me? Allow me to introduce you to my mother-in-law."_

–_Jarod Kintz, "99 Cents For Some Nonsense"_

* * *

"Take your quills out," Ed instructed. "Vee vill begin class today viz a test."

Immediately, there was a collective groan from the majority of the students which went unnoticed by the teacher. He couldn't be bothered to deal with it, since the sudden cold snap outside was rubbing up against him the wrong way. Extreme temperatures always irritated his automail, seeing as how the metal would expand or contract depending on which side of the scale the weather was on. It was actually the ports that caused the most pain, being directly connected to his shoulder and knee, so they stretched the muscles they were connected to as the metal shifted. Ed resolved to transmute a fireplace as he handed out the tests he had written up before limping back to his desk. In a short, yet excruciatingly long ten minutes, the tests were complete and awaiting grading on the desk and the teacher was leaning against the blackboard.

"Vat are zee basic components ov alchemy?" Granger raised her hand and spoke.

"The elements and compounds being used in the reaction, the amount of said materials, and the array used."

"Correct; zere are some vacts missink, but zat is to be expected as vee have not gone over zose zings yet. Vive points to Gryvvindor." He drew a circle on the board, not looking away from the class. "To properly use a transmutation circle, an alchemist muscht be able to pervectly draw every line and curve. Today, and vor zee next vew classes, you vill be learnink to draw pervect shapes vizout zee use ov implements." A square and a triangle soon followed the circle, creating a triangle of sorts with the three shapes. "Vor zee rest ov zee class, you vill draw zese zree schapes until you can draw zem pervectly. Anyone voo doesn't succeed vill have zat as zeir homevork, due next class."

Ed limped back over to his desk, favoring his right leg. He groaned as the left one trembled as he sat down, threatening to give way. He leaned back in the seat, absently flexing the fingers of his right hand, feeling the resistance of the metal. England was far too cold; Scotland was too cold; the entire _island_ was too cold. It hadn't even begun to properly snow yet and already his limbs were giving up on him.

Granger raised her hand halfway through the class, and the blond was sorely tempted to let her stew it out. But then he wouldn't be a good teacher, a reliable person, so he got up anyway, ignoring how his knee locked up in protest. When he got to the desk, he slid himself into the empty seat and looked at her paper, which was covered in shapes. A violent spasm of his fingers suddenly ripped the paper in half.

"Sorry," he said, and placed the two halves together on the desk. Granger shrugged and looked it over, unconcerned since the sheet was entirely filled with ink. "Your circles here are vine, but zese triangles are not entirely schtraight and zose squares are rectangles. Remember, even zee smallest mischtake can have draschtic evvects on your vork," Ed grimly warned.

"Yeah right," Malfoy scoffed, making it known that he was eavesdropping on the pair.

"In zis class, it's essential," Ed repeated, somehow staying calm. "An array is zee directions an alchemist gives to zee transmutations. It is zee same as zee vords vor a spell; zee array, iv drawn correctly, vill tell zee materials how to reschape zemselves. Iv drawn incorrectly, zen zee entire array vill vall apart, and vill probably kill you in zee process." He stood up, wincing as the metal audibly creaked. "I zink I vill schtay here vor zee rescht ov zee class," he groaned as he sat back down.

"Professor," Ron obtusely asked, "is there something wrong?"

"Juscht old vounds; zey act up in zee cold." It wasn't entirely a lie, not really.

The conversation over, everyone returned to their drawings. Ed decided he would go down to the library and find some heating spells, maybe ask the other teachers for some help. Maybe Granger as well; she was a good student, and would hopefully not be too busy. He could only go through so many books at one time, and help was always appreciated. From certain people.

Next Thursday morning found Ed being forced against his will to follow Snape around during his free period, just before lunch. His breath frosted about his mouth as he huffed through the grounds, the grass frozen underfoot from the dew that had iced overnight. He wasn't entirely sure why Severus needed him, but now wasn't a good time to ask either. Both were limping as they walked, and the blond had no doubt that the bite on Severus' leg was acting up. Even so, all the other man said was that he needed assistance with something and for whatever reason it required them to walk across the grounds.

They were coming onto a small group of students when Ed's leg locked up, forcing him to the ground. He cursed at it, beat it once or twice and pulled his wand out to use a temporary heating spell while Severus said something to the students. The spell wouldn't last very long, but so far, was better than nothing. Severus helped the blond to his feet, a book in his other hand. Ed muttered a 'thank you' to the Potions master before asking where he had gotten the book from, receiving a noncommittal grunt in return, walking back to the school. The blond looked over his shoulder at the students, and seeing Harry, Ron and Granger –no, she asked him to call her Hermione– he waved at them, noticing that the raven haired boy had a look of concentration on his face. He shrugged at the oddity and casually asked Severus if he knew any good heating spells.

"It's vor my leg," he explained. "It's been actink up lately and I need somezing to loosen zee joints."

"I don't," the other responded with something approaching regret. "Perhaps Filius knows some spells that would assist you."

Ed sighed, knowing that the Ravenclaw didn't. He had already asked him the same question and received the same answer, though not a recommendation. He rubbed at his shoulder absently as Severus led him to the staff room for whatever it was he needed.

"Bandagink?" Ed asked five minutes later, placing a roll of bandages onto a table. "You didn't need to ask; I vould have helped you anyvays. Put your leg up here, on the seat. Hold these up, zey're in zee vay."

"I would have asked Filch," Severus said, holding his robes back as Ed dabbed at a spot of blood with a wet cloth, "but he always has that cat with him. Who knows what it has gotten itself into, especially with the rats that hang around the school."

The blond made a face as he traded the now bloodied cloth for the white bandages, pulling a sheaf out of the roll and expertly wrapped it around the bites, though it was made more difficult with the rest of Severus' leg in the way.

"Blasted thing," Severus lightly cursed. "How are you supposed to keep track of all three heads at once?"

"Zat vould probably be vyy Dumbledore chose him," Ed absently answered.

"Then how would anyone get through there in the first place?"

"Isn't zee point to keep intruders out?"

"For the other trials, of course," Severus snarkily said.

"Zen it muscht have a veakness."

"Without killing it?"

"Unless Hagrid has schtarted breedink zose zings, I zink zere is."

Both teachers took a moment to ponder the implications of Hagrid breeding a pack of Cerberus like he did with the other creatures, namely the school's thestral herd. They each had the awareness to shudder before returning to the task at hand. A sudden noise from the hallway, however, distracted them. Ed saw Severus' grimace in anger before dropping his robes over the not-yet-entirely-bandaged leg, leading the blond to protest, but went ignored.

"POTTER!" Severus yelled, marching over to the door. The roll of bandages trailed behind him like toilet paper stuck to a shoe.

"I just wanted to know if I could have my book back," Ed heard the first year say.

"JUST GET OUT!"

The shouting was followed by the sound of running feet, quickly obscured by the door slamming. Ed sighed and picked up what remained of the bandages, which were fast coming undone by Severus' fury. He straightened up as the Potions master regained his composure and turned around, surprise showing on his face as Ed held up the roll.

"Vill vee get zis over viz, zen?"

Something that sounded suspiciously like an insult passed through his lips before Severus returned to his former position, propping his leg up against the seat and wincing at both the twinge of pain and the sight of tangled bandages. Ed carefully unwound the cloth, crossed over to a desk and cut off the dirty bandages with a pair of scissors he found in there. He then rewrapped the leg with haste, though certain not to incorrectly treat it. Severus was warned against messing with the wrappings, and with another heating spell, the blond was good to go for another hour, which was be spent looking through the library for a more effective spell. When the library locked up for the night, Ed went to his rooms, hoping for some sleep.

It didn't come easily. He was far too awake for sleep, but too tired to be awake. He ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, looking around his room. Most of the walls were lined with bookshelves, which in turn were neatly entirely covered. The majority of books involved magic, with everything from healing to the Dark Arts. A small writing desk was shoved in the corner, opposite his bed, which was a simple single with sheets, a blanket and a pillow. In the wall between the bed and the desk was a four paned window, the bottom half somewhat mobile; it could be slid upwards to allow access outside. Sitting underneath the window was a trunk with Ed's clothes inside and some more _sensitive_ materials.

The flooring was made of a slightly more forgiving wooden material than the stone classroom was, but barely so. The nearly hidden walls were dry plaster the color of desert sand, with small torch brackets set in above the door, bookshelves and over his desk. One lone bracket also sat next to his bed, and was the only one currently lit. The others were smoking slightly in grudging complaint at being extinguished. The furniture cast wicked shadows over everything and Ed was forced to remind himself that these were regular shadows, not Pride's. They were just shadows; there's no reason to be afraid of the dark.

It's the light that hurts you.

The first thing Ed thought of the next morning upon waking was: how did I get here? He was lying beneath his bed, where the smell of mothballs tickled his nose and threatened to bring about sneezing. A pile of dirt was gathering in the corner and where the bed met the wall; he would clean that later. For now, he pushed himself out from beneath the bed and held still for a moment as blood rushed through his body with the sudden change in position. He slowly stood, grasping the edge of the desk for support with a wince as his leg groaned in protest. He gave up, falling backwards onto his bed. His hands found the edge of his trunk and it was unlocked, with his clothes making their way onto his bed as he searched for a particular object. He lifted out a tool box, pacing it carefully on his lap.

The box itself was simple in design; a brass latch on gray steel, a black handle top. Not so dissimilar to those that engineers or mechanics carried. The box was opened, revealing the tools inside. A finger flicked at a small switch on the inside wall and the tools moved, revealing a set of metal bars connected to the layer which could be pulled out of position. Beneath the rack, and directly on the bottom of the kit, was a set of specialized tools. Most he wouldn't need, but there was one thing in particular that he did require. There, that was it.

Ed pulled a bottle out of its resting place and held it up to the sun. It was half full with a black substance, meaning he would need to buy another bottle by the end of the year. Without further ado, he pulled his pants off and immediately set to work oiling his leg. He grimaced as his thoughts turned to the Truth; even being what he was, he couldn't escape it. His arm and leg were lost forever now, and nothing could ever bring them back. It was too late, but Ed had paid his price. He'd lived and learned, and would prefer to continue to do so, thank you, on his own terms. He didn't have the right to interfere with anyone else's lives, and would most certainly not kill anyone if he could help it. He'd killed too many already.

With a sigh, the bottle was sealed and returned to its depression in the box, which was similarly shut away in his trunk after being locked up, but not before he pulled out a change of clothes. It hurt to remember his old mechanic; he could hear her warning him now, to remember to keep the metal oiled, dry it off when it got wet, always check for rusting, clean it daily, all that other wonderful maintenance that his limbs required. It hurt to recall those things, but that was just what he had to do. There was no one else to remember, no one else to recall how things used to be.

Checking the trunk's lock again, he stripped himself of the rest of his clothes and pulled on the clean set, stomach growling impatiently as he tied his hair up into a ponytail. Not enough time for a braid today. He was rushing so much, in fact, he nearly walked out without his gloves and glasses but remembered as he felt the cold of the doorknob. Moving to his dresser, he grabbed the starch white gloves and the dark sunglasses and hurriedly put them on, not noticing that he was being watched.

Perched outside his window was a hawk owl. It wasn't unusual, given the fact that the school and the magical community in general used owls for private messages, but what was wrong was that the owl simply sat there, staring. It made no attempt to make itself known, nor did it have a message tied to its leg or any form of binding to indicate that it had a master. The bird simply sat on the sill, memorizing the scene with sharp eyes. Once the teacher had left his room, the bird flapped its wings hard and took off, maneuvering up to the Owlery.

The blond allowed his stomach to lead the way to the Great Hall and in a minute-and-a-half, he was sitting at the staff table with a stack of pancakes and a pile of sausages before him. The food was mowed down quickly, the hot food warming him up slightly as it went down. It also reminded him of the warming spell which was cast on his leg and arm once more before he followed the crowd out to the Quidditch pitch. He broke away from the students and instead walked over to the teacher's stands, carefully stepping on the frosted wood lest he slip. He shook his head in amusement when he spotted the Gryffindors unraveling a banner bearing 'Potter for President', flashing cheerfully a myriad of different colours, but always returned to the standard red and gold.

The teams came up shortly, where under Hooch's supervision, the captains shook hands and moved to their respective ends of the field. With a sharp blow of Hooch's whistle, the game was on. The commentator, another Gryffindor, was closely watched by Minerva as he relayed the game. In other words, with every sixth or so word, he was being reprimanded as his language slipped into the coarser end of the spectrum. Because of his house, he was biased towards the Gryffindor team, but his excitement as he cheered or groaned into the mic was real. He cheered along with the students as Gryffindor scored the first goal of the game, save for the Slytherins, who groaned at the failed blocking by their Keeper.

A few more minutes passed with the Quaffle being thrown around the field, passing between hands, reminiscent of a children's game involving a heated lump of starch. Ed smirked at the analogy but was distracted by the sudden hush that had infected the crowd. Judging by the whispers around him, someone had spotted the Snitch, the little, flying golden ball that indicated the end of the game when caught, and awarded the catching team an extra one hundred-fifty points, though not necessarily the win. Up in the air, the two opposing Seekers were speeding after a shimmer of gold, the Chasers listlessly floating in midair. Except for one, the Slytherin captain, who flew in front of Harry and allowed the Snitch to disappear.

As one, the Gryffindor supporters yelled, "Foul!"

The commentator was having difficulty expressing what had just occurred without incurring Minerva's wrath. He was failing for the most part, only getting through by speaking rapidly enough that his head of house couldn't get a word in edgewise. With a few more minutes of playing, something odd caught Ed's eye. A Bludger had streaked past Harry, barely missing him, when his broom lurched violently. Ed nudged Severus with an elbow, eyes narrowed as the broom twitched again.

"Is it normal vor zat to happen?" he asked, pointing at the Gryffindor Seeker as his Nimbus Two Thousand began to swerve around, attempting to dislodge its rider.

"No."

Severus paused, staring up at the struggling Seeker, and began to mutter a counter-curse. The Potions master must have had a very good reason to dislike Harry, if he gave even the briefest consideration to letting the kid die. Or just be injured, if he fell off and wasn't killed by the impact. Others were beginning to notice the difficulty Harry was having with his out-of-control broom, pointing him out to their friends. Severus' mutterings began to increase in speed as Ed felt his joints loosed up; while he was grateful for the relief, he hadn't cast any spells, and there was the definite smell of burning. He looked down, and as expected, saw a fire burning away at Severus' robes, spreading with ease. Ed scooted away from his colleague and poked Snape's shoulder.

"You might vant to look down," he advised.

And he did. It took a full three seconds for the Potions master to register that his clothes were on fire, and when he did, he shot up to his feet and stomped on the edge of the fabric, leaving the cloth dirty and burnt but no longer at risk of killing people. Ed shrugged when the other teacher turned his scathing gaze on him and returned his attention to the game. Harry was pulling himself back onto his broom, having recovered from whatever had possessed his broom. Barely a moment had passed before the broom began to nosedive towards the ground; this time, however, it was purely in the Seeker's control, judging by the way he was leaning into the wind, lessening the resistance from his fall. Without thinking, Ed stood up and vaulted over the edge of the stands as the broom smashed into the ground and the Gryffindor tumbled down onto the grass. He rushed over and propped the kid up, who gagged and cupped one hand around his throat.

The teacher positioned his hands to perform the Heimlich, but Harry coughed and spit something up into his hand, the object flashing gold despite the spit that coated its surface. The blond grimaced and let go of the first year, who wobbled slightly but triumphantly held the Golden Snitch aloft in the air to the crowd's amazement, its wings whirring feebly. He helped Harry through the mass of confusion and cheering for the close save and down to Hagrid's hut, where he knew the groundskeeper would have something to help the boy. He was still off from the fall and choking, holding his head with one hand but wearing a crazy grin. Hermione and Ron were there as well, and in record time, the conversation turned to Severus.

"It was him," Ron insisted. "Hermione and I saw it! He was cursing your broomstick; Hermione said he wouldn't take his eyes off you and was muttering."

"It vasn't," Ed interjected. "Zee broom vas ovv bevore I told him."

"Exactly," Hagrid agreed with a nod of his head. "Why would a teacher do somethin' like that?"

"Well, he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween, so I think that counts for something," Harry commented. He fixed Ed with a slightly steely glare that just bounced off the teacher. "And you knew about it."

"Zee Headmaschter told me to check on Vluvvy. He said Severus had already gone on ahead."

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked.

"I'm a teacher."

"Not you, those three."

"Fluffy?"

"I bought him off a Greek chappie las' year, an' lent him to Dumbledore to guard the–" The large man caught himself, covering his near-slip with a fake cough, soothing it with a sip of tea from his bucket-sized mug. It did nothing to deter the over-curious students.

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Don't ask me any more questions. That's top secret." The three looked to Ed for more information.

"Don't look at me," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I vas againscht it as soon as I heard about it." He crossed his arms and looked out the window, over at the Quidditch grounds.

"Snape is trying to steal it," Harry insisted.

"He isn't. Iv he vas goink to schteal anyzing, zen he vould have done so several days ago. You don't have any proov, eizer."

"He's right," Hagrid backed him up. "Yer meddlin' in things yeh don' understand. This sort o' thing is between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel–"

"So there's someone named Nicholas Flamel, is there?"

Ed groaned and face palmed while Hagrid looked furious at himself for the slipup.

"I've heard the name somewhere," Hermione thoughtfully said.

Ed remembered that several of the books he had suggested to Hermione had mentioned Flamel in passing, though only one or two had actually listed his creation of a Sorcerer's Stone; the others had only listed him as an accomplished and famous alchemist. In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea.

"Ed, have you heard of Flamel?"

The alchemist shook his head in despair. The kid must've been oblivious, because there was no way he would spill. Hermione was explaining just that to Harry as Ed thanked Hagrid for the tea and stepped outside, walking back to the castle. He heard a door click shut behind him and frantic breathing as the three tried to catch up to him. Not wanting to listen to their badgering, he acted entirely on impulse. He dove into a pile of convenient leaves nearby, which engulfed him entirely. He was _not_ short; there were just a lot of leaves so it was a huge pile. The leaves distorted their voices slightly, muffling sound as they passed by. The sounds retreated, and after several minutes, Ed popped his head out of the leaf pile, just in time to see the Whomping Willow take a crack at a bird that had passed to close.

A raven had been circling the grounds for some time, looking for the distinct figure that it had been watching for some time now. It had to leave occasionally, to see to other matters, but was able to keep track of its target quite well. Flying was very tiring due to the avian's ridiculous weight; it was why it always preferred land-based forms, not being a flying Thanksgiving dinner. There was a large tree not too far away; it prepared to land on a bough when the branch flew up at it. The bird squawked in panic, flapping hard to regain momentum and escape the psychotic plant. Another club-like equivalent of a fist came at it before the raven could hightail it out of there. It managed to dodge the blunt weapon, missing the blond entirely as he watched the bird fly away.

* * *

_It took twenty years to realize the obvious, and yet the pain only worsened, like death by poisoning. Every moment it was harder to breathe, it felt like he was on fire and there was no way he was going to live until– He realized, again, he didn't have to._

_It was too late for some of the people he knew. Perhaps it was better, that way. He couldn't bring himself to cry at their funerals; Teacher would have socked him in the jaw and then trampled him into the dirt if he even thought about it. So he set his jaw and kept his tears dry even as others let themselves fall apart. Even Sig, who rivaled Armstrong in size and heart, was crying for his deceased beloved. As cruel as it sounded, it didn't matter anyway, because he followed her in less than a month. Sudden illness, the same way the famous death-defying Izumi Curtis had fallen._

_Jean Havoc died a month later in an accident, along with Heymans Breda. The two were off on their lunch break when they were shot up by some robbers in the store; the doctors said they were killed on impact, that it was so fast they didn't have time to feel anything. The bullets had gone straight through their skulls, too fast for the brain to process the pain. He couldn't cry then, either. They were just doing what they were expected to do, what they wanted to do, to protect the country they had fought and given their lives for. It would be shameful to let the tears flow. So they were kept in, hidden and stored away._

_It wasn't clear at first what was happening, but little things started catching his eye. A death here, an accident there. Just little things that were expected. Reconstructing a country, after a civil war no less, was not an easy task. Mustang had done well for the first ten years, but no one lasted forever. The then-Fuhrer learned that he was developing a bone disease that weakened his bones, but they said it was likely due to age. He was almost fifty, after all._

_Hawkeye was losing her sight, something that hit her harder than she cared to let on. She was a gunwoman, a sniper; her sight was her primary tool and function. Unlike Mustang, who could cope without it, she was a falcon. A blind falcon cannot fly; he, or she, in Riza's case, will stay grounded and die. She did the best that she could, but gave up her life to protect her superior during an assassination attempt on his own. By then, the blindness had nearly overtaken her; Ed had seen her that morning and he knew she was going to snap soon. The cataracts resulting from her blindness had nearly entirely covered her eyes, obscuring the dark brown irises. She had died that day a hero, but was it necessary?_

_The doctors performing the autopsy on her body, a simple blood test as per request of the Fuhrer, had found that she was poisoned. Slowly, carefully, Hawkeye, the rock of Mustang's closest friends, had been killed over the span of five years. And she had given no one any sign of her slow death, except the slow loss of her eyesight. And there was nothing Mustang could do; he was no longer a State Alchemist, and due to his declining health, he stepped down as Fuhrer, but had brought about a new democracy based Amestris during his rule. That, at least, he achieved._

_But the plans were already set and the cards on the table. The infiltration had been successful, and would be carried out. A little democracy wouldn't get in their way, not when there was so much to be achieved. All he could be grateful about that attack was that Al and Winry were in Xing visiting their friends there when it occurred, and had the sense to bring Pinako and their two kids with them. It was all he could be thankful for._

_And yet, people still died. The beginning of the fight had begun exactly twenty-five years on the day, since the Promised Day had begun. It all began with the fall of the Ice Queen in her last stand at Fort Briggs, keeping back the intruders she had been warding for most of her military career. He knew Olivier Armstrong would be angry her death was in vain._

* * *

_Next chapter: Reflection_

BulletWitch1985: Of course, he wouldn't be Ed otherwise. But better as opposed to what? Telling the truth and making it sound like the truth?

Hermione's the least likely to upset him, but Ron probably will say something he'll regret. He's not stupid, just obtuse.

Review4U: Always and forever. Unless I say otherwise. Same goes for his gloves.

The OMG Cat: She does? Is your mom a physicist? And the plasma was spelled was right. But yeah, I missed the 'e' in really. Thank you for pointing that out.


	10. Reflection

A/N: One hundred reviews... I didn't think this would ever happen in my lifetime, let alone for this fic. I don't know if I already said this, and at the risk of scaring everyone off, I love you. Platonically, of couse. I don't plan on stalking anyone or anything. Thanks to: DemonRaily, Son Luna, Takei Daloui, BulletWitch1985, SupaCrazee, Tart Kiwi Fruit, Guest, Luna13.

**Warning: Science. Alchemy. Flashback. Character death.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Reflection**

Reflection – noun; 1, the act of reflecting or the state of being reflected; 2, an image, representation or counterpart; 3, a fixing of thoughts on something; 4, a thought occurring in consideration or meditation; 5, an unfavorable remark or observation; 6, the casting of some imputation or reproach; 7, _(Physics/Optics)_ the return of light, heat, sound, etc. after striking a surface; 8, _(Physics/Optics)_ something that is reflected, usually light; 9, _(Mathematics, in a plane)_ the replacement of each point on one side of a line by the point symmetrically placed on the other side of the line; 10, _(Mathematics, in space)_ the replacement of each point on one side of a plane by the symmetric point on the other side of the plane; 11, _(Anatomy)_ the bending or folding back of a part upon itself

* * *

"_Your inability to see the wisdom in someone else is not a reflection on their lack of perspicacity, it is a reflection on yours."_

–_Ilyas Kassam_

* * *

Mid-December found Ed crouching in his classroom as the students came in, a matchbook in one hand and a match in the other, the match head on fire. He threw the burning stick into the pile of logs awaiting the flames and slowly burned, radiating heat while taking their sweet time catching the flames. He refused to use magic or alchemy as a shortcut, and whenever a student inquired about it, he would shrug and mutter something incoherent, if not ignore them outright. Why do everything the easy way? It was pointless, taking a shortcut, because once you lost the skills, you no longer had them when you needed them the most. So every morning, he would lose three or four more matches to the flint strip before successfully lighting a match and burning the spent sticks as well as the logs.

"Since it snowed earlier zis mornink," Ed said, straightening up with a glare to the winter wonderland waiting outside his window, "vee vill not go outside today." To himself, he muttered: "I can't go outside in zat anyvas; I'd probably vreeze to deas."

He put one hand on the edge of his blackboard and spun it, catching the edge so it showed the notes he had written the night before. It was, admittedly, fun spinning it, but tended to break apart a lot.

"Now zat you all have zee drawink down, vee can move onto zee alchemical laws. Zere are two major laws: zee Law ov Equivalent Exchange, and zee Law ov Natural Providence. Equivalent Exchange dictates zat vatever is put in muscht come out; iv I transmute carbon, I vill receive carbon. Natural Providence demands that however much is used vill be received. Iv I transmute graphite into diamond, which are bos pure carbon, I vill end viz zee same amount ov carbon as I did ven I schtarted. However, due to zee divverences betveen graphite's and diamond's molecular schtructures, it vill not appear as zough zere is zee same amount ov carbon." There was the scratching of quills for a moment as everyone finished writing before Hermione raised her hand into the air. "Yes?"

"Why would there be less diamond than there is graphite?"

"As I had said, zere are divverences betveen their structures. In graphite," Ed said, flipping the board back over to its blank side, "zee carbon atoms bond in scheets, like so." He drew a picture of what looked like a rhombus with another rhombus hovering above it, tilted so it was viewed at an angle. "In diamond, zee carbon vorms in rings and boxes like so."

Another odd diagram was sketched next to the two rhombi. It was roughly cubical, with two interconnected hexagons inside, with each connected to opposite corners in the cube and each to separate, opposite points directly in the middle of two of the cube's opposite faces.

"Zat is called a diamond lattice, because zee cryschtal schtructure vas virscht discovered in diamond. You schould draw zee comparisons later. I may include zem in your next tescht," he warned. Furious scratching followed the threat, the blond giving the students a moment to catch up to him. "Juscht as zere are rules as to vat you can do viz alchemy, zere are rules as to vat you cannot do. Zee schtudy and practice of human transmutation is illegal. Zee creation of precious metals is illegal. Zee experimentation ov souls are illegal."

"Souls, sir?"

"You heard me." His tone had become clipped, daring anyone to challenge him. No one was stupid enough to rise to the bait. "Vell," he said, after drawing out a silver pocket watch and checking the time, "since zee class is movink vaster zan I expected, you vill be drawink your virscht transmutation circles now, inschtead ov next class as planned."

That drew excitement from everyone; finally, they were getting into what everyone wanted to do, finally perform alchemy. The noise died as Ed rapped his knuckles on the blackboard, getting everyone's attention, before turning around and dusting off the surface of the board.

"You von't be usink zem yet." Well, that killed the mood. "In a vew classes you vill be." Another drawing soon replaced the graphite and diamond structures, one that was very long and complicated, unknown to the students. "Zis is lignin. Draw it." Another, decidedly smaller chain was drawn beneath it, with a similar structure brought up next to it. "Zis is cellulose and zis is hemicellulose," Ed said, pointing at the two new structures in turn. "Zese zree compounds are zee main components ov vood; cellulose comprises about vorty-two percent ov vood, hemicellulose and lignin roughly tventy-vive. Once you draw your arrays, and have zem approved, you vill begin transmutink a vooden block into somezink else next class. Anyzink, really, so long as you respect zee alchemical laws."

Everyone eagerly gathered their things together so they could start as soon as possible. What they did after varied, as some began to draw immediately while others took their time deciding how the array should be arranged. Hermione, as usual, raised her hand.

"Is there any one array we should draw?" Ed frowned in confusion, not understanding what she was asking. Hermione rephrased her question: "Is there only one acceptable design that will transmute wood?" Ed blinked once and stared for a few seconds before laughing.

"No, no, zere isn't. Zere are an invinite number ov designs zat vill vork, but zee simplescht are bescht. Less room vor mischtakes zat vay."

As Hermione began scribbling out a design, Ed felt... content. Proud, even. The students were finally catching on, and there was hope yet for them. The Amestrian leaned back into his chair and began to doze off, fairly confident that no one was stupid to try and transmute anything. And even if they did, what were they going to use, anyways? Their desks or their homework? Each other? And with that thought, Ed's imagination kicked into gear and supplied him a vivid image of what that outcome would look like. One golden eye opened and surveyed the room. All of them were sketching out shapes, even Malfoy. The eye fell shut again and he silently reprimanded himself.

They were only eleven, he reasoned.

_But you and Al were eleven when you performed human transmutation_, a malicious voice argued.

But I'm smart; they called me a prodigy for a reason.

_And Hermione?_

Lacks the purpose and motivation.

_You're teaching them._

The only ones who would try it are stupid and/or lack the know-how.

_Says you._

I am you, so what does that make you, us, whatever?

_How about: crazy, mental, bonkers, flew the coop, sold the farm, gone beyond the veil._

Those last two didn't involve insanity.

_So, what's your point? They still sounded cool._

Ed interrupted the conversation with himself about his increasingly questionable sanity in favor of a distraction. Insanity could come later, when he was bored. He pulled out one of the desk drawers and picked up a file thick with papers. Perfect; he could write up more detailed lesson plans, then. This class in particular was advancing faster than expected, and he would probably need more specific lessons for upcoming classes. He hoped that the students were simply picking this up faster than he'd anticipated, rather than cheating as he feared. Ah, well, if it was the latter, he could just fail all the students and be done with it.

* * *

Christmas: yet another holiday Ed didn't celebrate for numerous reasons. One, the figure commonly known as Jesus Christ had been born long after Amestris had fallen. Two, Ed didn't celebrate the holidays anymore. Eat the food, surely, but celebration was an entirely different matter. Three, there was no similar holiday that had existed in Amestris, not that he would have celebrated anyways.

So, with this knowledge, why did he still feel a pang in his chest when he woke up that morning and found a pile of presents at his bed? After he had smashed his head into his bed frame, of course, and received a painful migraine for his trouble. He had crawled beneath the mattress again for some reason, and after rolling out, he spared the wrapped gifts another glance. It was a meagre little thing, paltry in every sense of the word. And somehow, it still depressed him. Probably because there were still people that cared enough about him to send him something, anything at all. He changed without another look in the presents' direction, leaving the room in darkness once he shut the door, the torches extinguishing themselves as soon as he left.

The school feast was incredible, and left the alchemist wondering just how the school could afford so much food, who exactly could supply it all, and what was done with the leftovers. But he wasn't searching for answers, only food. So he took his place at the staff table and examined that which was placed before him. There were roasted turkeys galore, piles of mashed and boiled potatoes, platters of sausages, which he learned were called chipolatas, dishes of buttered peas, and alternating brass boats filled to the brim with gravy or cranberry sauce.

There were wizard crackers were spread throughout the tables, which Ed failed to see the point to until Dumbledore pulled one and received a flowered bonnet after a smoky explosion. The new hat replaced his old pointed one, the old man somehow keeping a neutral face despite his ridiculous appearance. Pudding later followed the turkey, which Ed glared at. He knew pudding contained milk and milk was evil incarnate. So he left the pudding where it was and the pudding kept its distance, lest it end up on the floor.

Ten minutes into dessert, Ed leaned back in his chair, satisfied with the meal. It was delicious, of course, but it just didn't compare to Winry's apple pie. He pushed those thoughts away with a sigh, knowing thinking of the past could lead to insanity and those were simply too much trouble to escape noticeably. Such were his thoughts that the teacher didn't notice the note left for him until he had effectively stabbed it through with his fork.

The paper, now pierced by the tines, was carefully removed so more damage wasn't caused before it could be read. He unfolded it and immediately recognized the loopy scrawl as Dumbledore's handwriting. _Meet me in the extra Divination room, five minutes before midnight._ In the immortal words of Admiral Ackbar, "It's a trap!" But there was clearly something up, and Ed was never one to turn own a challenge.

Ten minutes before midnight he set out, wearing an extra thick traveling cloak. The cold was worse at night, without the sunlight to warm the air, so his automail was grating painfully loudly in the silence. There was nothing he could do about that beyond casting another heating spell, which eliminated most but not all of the squealing it emitted. The trip was still long enough that he was ready to rip his leg off, even if he couldn't walk afterwards. Instead, he settled with kicking the door open and letting off some of his frustration.

A large, ornate mirror stood opposite the door, almost reproachful in the darkness. The mirror stood on its own, with clawed feet fashioned in that of a bird's, the edges of the frame gilded in gold. Ed avoided his reflection in the silver space, catching sight of an inscription at the top edge. '_I show not your face but your heart's desire_', was coded backwards. Finished with his inspection of the odd furnishing and deeming it unimportant as of that moment, Ed looked around the rest of the room, finding only desks and Dumbledore, who stood off to the side. He wore a thoughtful look on his face, as though disappointed Ed hadn't glanced at his reflection, but wiped it off quickly once he realized Ed was staring. Without a word, the Amestrian moved over to the wizened old man, who put one finger to his lips in the near-universal 'shush'. The blond crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, clenching his jaw shut instead of yawning.

On cue, the door opened on its own as Ed felt the urge to yawn pass. He subconsciously pressed himself closer to the wall, narrowing his eyes at the empty space. Quite luckily, he had taken a black coat instead of the usual red, and it blended in with the inky blackness better than the scarlet ever would. The door shut, cutting off the light that had protruded from the hall, except for the strip of light that sneaked in from beneath the door. A voice echoed in the silence, startling the alchemist, not that he would admit to it later.

"Mom? Dad?"

The voice was easy enough to recognize, despite the current lack of an owner. Ed had quickly deduced that Harry had either used a spell or an enchanted item to hide himself from sight, likely willingly so and without a time limit. For the next half hour, there was no noise at all, the silence lulling the teacher to sleep. A clatter from the hall startled him and he stumbled forward, barely missing the edge of a desk. He had heard Harry jump to his feet, shoes clattering against the stone. He whispered a promise to the mirror and the door opened and shut itself again in moments. With the boy gone, Ed turned to look at Dumbledore, but found the room empty.

Growling in frustration, he shoved himself away from the wall and left the room, refusing to look at the mirror. He had figured that was what he wanted the Headmaster wanted him to do, and his returning stubborn-streak prevented him from doing just that. He only paused once his hand had grasped the doorknob, unfeeling fingers tightened around the metal.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised, feeling oddly like an echo of the first year, before opening and sidestepping the door, shutting it softly.

From his hiding spot, Dumbledore frowned. He had, indeed, been hoping for Elric to look into the mirror. It could tell many useful things about the alchemist: some important, some not. He had been personally hoping for something important, anything that could tell if the blond was trustworthy or not. Ah, well. He had a few more days at least.

The next night was more intriguing for all of them. Ed had entered much the same as before, with a little more cursing at his leg and less time spent inspecting the room, entering at five minutes before midnight. He waited in the same spot as he had before, ignoring the Headmaster beside him, and set to waiting. It took a little longer than it had the night before, but the door opened and, sure enough, he heard Harry. The boy came into view as he dropped a silvery cloak, bringing his friend into view as well. Ed focused on the cloak, which lay forgotten on the floor, while the two first years started yammering away about the mirror. It was clearly the object that allowed for them to become invisible; it radiated power, not like that of a Philosopher's Stone, but something otherworldly. Something like the Gate.

An escalating argument drew his attention away from the cloak; the boys' friendship wasn't as solid as it seemed. They were arguing over who got to stand in front of the mirror, of all things. Really, what was so wrong about standing next to each other and looking in? Clanging from outside startled the both of them, leaving them both deer in the headlights before scrambling for the cloak and pulling it over them, like a sheet. As soon as it began to come down over them, they turned invisible, wherever one would look through the cloak. The door opened and shut again, as before, and Ed left soon after. He had half a mind to ask Dumbledore about the cloak, but figured that something would be said if he needed to know it.

On the third night, the Headmaster was sitting on one of the desks. Not in it, on the bench or seat or whatever was available, but on the surface of the desk where one would write their work. The old man gestured for Ed to sit down and he took a seat in the corner of the room, with only the back of the mirror visible to him. As was expected, Harry had come into the room, though sooner than before. He went straight for the mirror, the cloak slipping off his shoulders and onto the floor.

"Back again?" Harry jumped to his feet and stammered an apology, seeing the head Headmaster. "It's quite alright; strange how being invisible can make one so near-sighted. So, it would seem that you have discovered the delights offered by the Mirror of Erised, much like the hundreds before you."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir." And all he had to do was look up.

"So, you have realized what the mirror does?"

"Well, it shows me my family and Ron as Head Boy."

"So it does." Dumbledore looked thoughtfully to the glass screen. "Do you know what the Mirror of Erised shows us all? The happiest man on Earth could use the mirror just as any other, for it would show himself exactly as he is."

"So it shows a person what they want the most?"

"It does." His voice had turned grave as he spoke. "The Mirror of Erised shows neither knowledge nor truth, allowing for men to waste away before it, entranced or driven mad by what they have seen.

"The mirror will be moved tomorrow, Harry. I must ask that you do not go out again to find it. But should you ever see it again, you will be prepared. Do not dwell on dreams and forget to live, hear me?" Ed moved from his position to stand by the mirror, startling the boy as Dumbledore advised, "Now why don't you go put on that admirable cloak and head off to bed?"

"Sir? May I ask something of you and Professor Elric?"

"You just have, but you may."

"Schoot."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I see myself holding a thick pair of woolen socks," the crazy old man answered. Ed stared at him with incredulously, wondering not for the first time if he had gone mad. "Another year has passed and not a single person had given me a pair. People always insist on books."

"Zen I'll send you a pair next year," Ed promised, still unsure of the Headmaster's mental state. "I vould razer not look in zee mirror, Harry. I vill probably loose vatever sanity I have levt." He looked away wistfully, sure to turn his head left, not right, which would bring him towards the mirror. "I–"

Ed shook his head and left hurriedly, leaving behind a confused first years and an understanding Headmaster, both curious as to his experience to be able to say such a thing. Ed shut the door behind him quietly, shivering in the cold as his breath plumed before him, accentuating the low temperatures of the castle. Perhaps he had said too much back there; it was too late now to take it back. It would just be another mistake he would have to live with. What was one more, when it was just another scratch on the wall that had crumbled long ago?

* * *

"_No." The answer was crisp, clipped, clear. It didn't bear repeating._

"_Why not? You are still a State Alchemist and–"_

"_These days, that is a formality. It is nothing more than words on paper, _Fuhrer_." The title was warped from an honour to an insult, something that flew the man by._

"_Your duty to your country demands that you fight!"_

"_No, you want for me to fight for you. Not for Amestris, not for this _thing_ that my country has become. This land has been neither home nor country for fifteen years now." He snatched his coat off of the chair and pulled it back on, adjusting the lapels so they lay comfortable on his body. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things that need attending to. Good day, Fuhrer."_

_The military personnel let Ed pass without a word, though their eyes were wide as the alchemist was not called back. They knew he was not someone to be trifled with, and at times, he hated that. Sometimes, he wished he could go back into anonymity, but that was impossible for the time being. In a few years, maybe, if things went as badly as everyone feared._

_Drachma was invading, the Iron Wall had fallen. General Olivier Armstrong was killed during the raid, fighting with her men for the country they had been born in and mercilessly killed for. And now, they have died for it as well. 'It was to be expected,' Ed thought, 'that things would start to fall down now.' A month before,_ _Mustang_ _had given in and died. He couldn't even walk by the time he closed his eyes one last time. Ed had been telling him that Falman had been reassigned to Fort Briggs with Kain Fuery. Mustang had told him to do his best to pull them out of there and said he was tired. His eyes had closed and Ed could tell that he had moved on to whatever was ahead. He may have been an atheist, but there was the Gate and the Truth; perhaps the impossible was possible._

_The doctors were called in and Mustang was declared dead while Ed left. There was nothing that could be done now for Fuery and Falman, he knew that much. He did in fact try to get their superiors to cut them loose and reassign them back to Central, but they were adamant that they specifically be at Briggs. It reeked of secrets and lies, but Ed was already out of the loop. The infiltration had begun, and it wouldn't stop, not until everything was gone. Sometimes, Ed reflected, humans were no less if not more monstrous than the Homunculi._

* * *

_It's right around here that I want to ask everyone their opinions; would you be happy if I ended this fic with just the first year, or would you want me to continue? And I already know what you think. You know who you are. But, I may also add other fics about the other characters. Let's see how it works out, first.  
_

_Next chapter: Fear_

BulletWitch1985: It's not a hint, almost everyone that reviewed took a crack at it.

The OMG Cat: Hm. I was very, very off.

Guest: No, but I thank you for the comparison. I actually like Molten, but I'm very bad at writing summaries. One of the worst parts of the job, in my opinion. And I apologize for not e-mailing you, but my computer doesn't quite like me. It tends to lag quite a bit, especially with my e-mail and FanFiction.


	11. Fear

**Edit: Fixed the scene after the owl, with a lot of help from Kuroki-keropi.**

A/N: Please read chapter ten before continuing. There have been some problems with alerts around the last chapter, so if you haven't read the lat chapter please do so. Also, it turns out I had the next chapter mislabeled, making this the next-to-last chapter of Arc One. Almost to the end, huh? Thanks to: auPHE, DemonRaily, Takei Daloui, demonicfate616, Son Luna, Review4U, PriestessofBast, The Bibliomaniac, The OMG Cat, ungoliantt, Four Leafed Fortune, Burning Tortoise, Aieika, Guest, Kuro, Sol Fox, DGtnsl, Blitza, AquilineFeline.

**Warning: Alchemy. Two flashbacks. (Implied) Character death.**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Fear**

Fear – noun, verb (used with object, used without object,) idiom; (noun) 1, a distressing emotion brought on by impeding danger, evil, pain or other causes, whether the threat is real or imagined; 2, a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling; 3, concern or anxiety; 4, reverential awe; 5, something that causes feelings of dread or apprehension; 6, anticipation of the possibility something unpleasant will occur; (verb with object) 1, to regard with fear; 2, to have reverential awe of; 3, to consider or anticipate with a feeling of dread or alarm; 4, _(Archaic)_ to experience fear in oneself; (verb without object) 1, to have fear; to feel apprehensive or uneasy; (idiom) 1, 'for fear of/that', in order to prevent the risk of; 2, 'put the fear of God in(to)', to cause someone/thing to be greatly afraid; 3, 'no fear', certainly not; 4, 'fools rush in where angels fear to tread', the ignorant are oft reckless and tend to enter a situation without any knowledge beforehand; 5, 'for fear of', to have fear of a consequence or occurrence

* * *

"_The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."_

– _Franklin Delano Roosevelt, First Inaugural Address_

* * *

"Begin."

Simultaneously, thirty pairs of hands touched a vast array of arrays and the room quickly lost its natural light as the alchemical kind took over, weakly popping and crackling in the hands of the inexperienced. The sharp blue seared into their eyes but no one moved until the light had died out and spots were left in its wake, making numerous people groan and rub at their faces. Everyone had been successful, even those who lacked creativity and simply transmuted a wooden puddle. By definition, Ed was still required to pass them, as much as he was loath to.

"Now transmute zem back."

An immediate scramble for erasers and chalk ensued, resulting in a multitude of scratches and chalk as the arrays were hurriedly replaced, erasers quickly forgotten as their minds focused on completing their task. The teacher inspected each circle before passing or failing it; if it was passed, then the student would activate the array and be graded on the result. If failed, they rethought and redrew the circle as Ed passed on. By the end of class, there were thirty planks of wood resting on the desks, showing that the students were exceeding all expectations.

Late that evening, Ed had fallen asleep at his desk while grading papers. One arm was lying across the desk, his forehead resting atop it. The other limply grasped a pen which was falling out of his fingers. The door slammed open, startling him; he pushed the chair back and clapped his hands together, one poised over his arm, while the other balled itself into a fist. A moment passed and, seeing as how he hadn't been attacked, Ed lowered his guard and noticed the intruders was just a couple of students. He sighed, lowering his arms and pulled his chair back up to the desk, yawning widely. It took another moment for him to register the looks on their faces, angry and somewhat hurt.

"You knew," Ron accused, one finger pointing at his face. "You knew about Flamel and didn't tell us."

Hermione hefted a fairly large book, opening it to a marked page before placing it on the desk, atop the papers that Ed had been grading. She pointed to one passage in particular, one that was accompanied with alchemical arrays.

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with the creation of the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with near-mythical powers. The Stone is reputed to possess the ability to turn any metal into pure gold; to produce the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal; and to give the wielder infinite alchemical knowledge. There have been multiple reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only known and confirmed Stone in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, is enjoying a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight). The Stone in Mr. Flamel's possession was created in a joint experiment with Mr. Albus Dumbledore, the esteemed wizard, and Mr. Van Hohenheim, the alchemical expert._

Ed felt his face darken but he didn't care. He lifted the book cover carefully, holding the pages open, before slamming it shut. The three students jumped at the noise and he looked at them disapprovingly. Their expressions didn't change at all, though they did have the sense of mind to fidget slightly.

"Zis is somezink beyond your concern," he growled. "Zere are vorces at vork vich _vill_ kill you vizout a second zought. Schtop vile you're alive and ahead; I'd hate to see more people die because zey believed zey vere invincible." He placed one hand on the book cover, before adding, "And don't believe all zat you read. Even zis book is incorrect, in zat it claims alchemy exists to create a Schtone. And as zey have proven, zee Schtone does not have to be made purely zrough alchemy."

"They? Who else has made a Sorcerer's Stone?" He sighed and leaned back in his chair, pushing the book back to Hermione.

"Nozink, nozink zat you have to concern yourselves viz. Let an old man be."

"But you can't be more than thirty," Ron argued, cutting Hermione off.

"Juscht leave, please. I need to be alone right now."

He looked out the window and caught sight of a bird. A snowy owl was perched atop the window sill, staring into the room with large, amber eyes. The bird clicked its beak forlornly and Ed looked to the trio.

"Is zat your bird?" Ed asked.

"No," Harry slowly said.

The blond pushed himself out of his chair and headed over to the window. It was pushed open and the bird soared inside, brushing past the teacher. As it passed, he felt heavy dread settle itself in his throat and stomach, making him shudder. The bird perched itself atop his desk, without a message visible anywhere. Hermione, in vain, attempted to take the bird, but it snapped at her while Ed stomped over, glaring daggers at the feathered creature.

"Get out," he growled, already knowing what the bird truly was. It stared up at him, ruffling its feathers as the first years stared on. "Get out ov here, Envy," he snapped at it. "I'll give you zirty seconds bevore I snap your neck and zrow you out ov here."

The owl hissed at Ed and launched itself into the air, smacking him in the face with one white wing. He lunged for the bird and missed, with it flying out the window; he could've sworn that the Homunculus, if it was, was hooting a laugh at him as it left. He growled a stream of curses at the sin as he slammed the window shut, making the panes rattle dangerously in place.

"What was that?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Don't vorry about it," he gruffly answered. "Somezink betveen me and an old… contact ov mine. Juscht to remind me vat I schould have done a long time ago." He distractedly ran one hand through his hair, pulling it out of its braid as he went. "Go back to your common room; I've got vork to do."

Reluctantly the trio left, glancing back as they crossed the threshold and the door shut. Ed allowed his gaze to travel back to the window and he sighed. It was just his luck that another crazy would want him killed. It wasn't the first time it had happened, nor would it likely be the last. But who?

There was that wizard, what was his name? Gristlestick? No... Griddle... Grindel, that was it; Gellert Grindelwald. He had terrorized the British Wizarding World some forty, maybe sixty years ago. It was none other than everyone's favorite prying Headmaster that had defeated him, and he had disappeared into the ether. It would make sense that Grindelwald would want revenge, but there was no conceivable way that he could find it against Dumbledore by sending a crazed owl after Ed. So, then, who was it? His eyes flicked over to the papers on his desk, spread out in a mess from the events just minutes ago. He gathered them up and it hit him.

Perhaps it wasn't a who, but a _what_.

Back, long, long ago, after Father had been taken down, they had searched for the remaining Homunculi whose death had gone unconfirmed: Envy. Pride had been given a second chance, with his memories wiped, and the others had been killed with eyewitnesses, but the sin of jealousy had disappeared entirely. They had been forced to conclude that it had died on its own, or had been killed by something out of their control. They stopped searching, but still kept an eye out for anything suspicious that may have been the Homunculus' doing.

Now, though, it didn't seem so absurd to think that Envy, if it had survived, was attempting to revive its fallen comrades. There were definitely events that could have occurred with its influence, the Second World War being the prime example. The thought made Ed drop the tests and punch his desk in anger.

It would be just like the Homunculus to manipulate the lives of the (potentially) powerful and give the order to have _millions slaughtered_. The blond snarled to himself before he remembered that he didn't know that for certain. With a bit of effort, he uncurled his fingers and forced himself into his chair, willing himself to relax.

What did he know? That Envy had disappeared shortly after the Promised Day. Not much more than that. There was Grindelwald, who may or may not have sent the owl. Who else? There was always Voldemort, but he had apparently died eleven years ago, when he had tried to kill Harry. Maybe, just maybe, Envy had teamed up with one or both of them, had offered immortality in exchange for their assistance. It wasn't so out of character, from what Ed remembered of the sin; it was more likely to lord its position over others than it was to rule.

Suddenly the alchemist snorted in laughter. Here he was, speculating about some long-dead alchemic disgrace that was dead for who knew how long, and deluding himself that some likely-rabid owl that had attacked him must have been said disgrace, and had worked with infamous wizards to kill thousands of people in Britain so it could collect souls. If he hadn't known Envy did exist at one point, he would have been on the floor, laughing had enough that turned blue.

Chuckling, Ed pulled out his pocket watch and noted the time. He gathered the fallen papers again, placed them on his desk, and left for his quarters. It was late, and he could finish grading tomorrow.

Envy; what a ridiculous train of thought.

When Ed awoke the next day, he remembered that there was a Quidditch match. He groaned as he didn't want to attend, but would be forced to for several reasons. The trio, appearances, keeping people off his back... The list goes on and on and on. He forced himself out of bed and got his clothes together before heading to the showers. He had forgotten to take one last night, with everything that had happened. The hot water and the steam cleared his head slightly of sleep but did nothing to relieve the headache that had manifested overnight with his thinking of the possibilities of the owl being Envy and its implications.

Breakfast was vapid; many of the students were rather upset about some staffing change that had been made some weeks prior, and Ed did vaguely recall Severus saying he would be refereeing the next Gryffindor match, so Ed had better keep an eye on Quirrel. Yeah, that probably had something to do with it. Personally, he doubted that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would try anything, when one considered the fact that Dumbledore himself would be attending the game. But who was he to judge?

Most of it was very boring and the teacher would have fallen asleep in the beginning of the game if not for the creeping pain in his knee and shoulder. The only high point of the game was when a fight erupted in the students' stands, when Ron tackled Malfoy into the seats and his two buffoons and Neville joined shortly after. To say the least, it was amusing to see the five fighting, or failing, on Malfoy's part. Afterwards, Ed saw Severus tailing Quirrel into the Forbidden Forest, but let the Potions master leave without any action on his part. Honestly, Quirrel heading into the Forbidden Forest was suspicious enough, when coupled with his demeanor and tendency to stutter. But when he thought about the incident the night before, it only strengthened his conviction that if Envy was indeed alive, it was working with Voldemort and perhaps Quirrel was as well.

Later, while patrolling the halls again, Snape told Ed of his meeting with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, apparently deciding his colleague could be trusted with little matters such as this. The blond spared him little attention, but Severus was happy to prattle on about what had happened, if only for the sake of filling the silence. Ed still did file away the one-sided conversation, because he might need to remember it later.

* * *

"_And how are my favorite niece and nephew doing?" Ed yelled, crouching down so he could scoop up the twins in a hug._

"_We're your only niece and nephew," one of them squealed with delight._

"_I know, but you two are still my favorite," Ed laughed, seeing his brother and sister-in-law watching him with a smile and letting their kids go when they asked to be put down. "How's it been, Al? Treating the wife well?"_

_Al blushed at the blatant question while Winry pulled out her characteristic wrench and hit Ed on the head with it, hard, as usual. Ed fell to the ground, and heard the twins giggle as he landed. He opened one eye and looked up at Winry, who had a self-satisfied smirk on her face._

"_It's good seeing you, Ed," came the answer._

"_Winry, you shouldn't hit Brother like that."_

"_Yeah, I was wondering if Al was doing well at his job," Ed reinforced with a groan as he stood. "You know, head researcher for the Xingese emperor, and all that. No need to stick your head in the gutter, Winry." Ed dodged the wrench-swipe as the owner blushed furiously._

"_You— you—" Frustrated, she left with a huff, allowing for the brothers to talk about more personal matters._

"_How have things been in Amestris?" Al asked, concerned._

"_Not so good, Al. They wanted me to fight, but I can't, since..." Ed trailed off, unwilling to go any further. The younger only nodded in understanding._

"_Ling did say you were welcome here, so it might be best to stay until things blow over. How has the former Fuhrer been?" They were now wandering the halls of the palace, which were empty save for the two of them._

"_He died a few months ago, Al. And Falman and Fuery were killed in the raid."_

_Al stopped and looked at his brother. Ed had his head down so his bangs covered his face, staring at the floor impassively. The stonework was well done, especially considering the age. The stones themselves were set into a diamond pattern, with inch-thick mortar between each stone. He didn't move when Al's arms wrapped around him in a hug, trying to ease his brother's worries._

"_It's alright Ed," he reassured. "We're not going anywhere, trust me."_

* * *

"Because ov zee time vee have loscht to vinter, vee vill be schpendink zee rescht ov zee year outside."

As per usual, the class groaned in response, allowing for the teacher to smile a bit. Without further complaints,, they were led outside and ran around the Quidditch field as had been done before the winter months. In several weeks, their improvement became more obvious to them and others. The purebloods that had been such bad runners in the beginning of the years could finally run half the pitch without getting winded. Several of the better runners managed the five laps, although some face planted into the grass and fell asleep afterwards. Ed left them be, after checking to see if they were liable to choke on the dirt. By Easter break, more than two-thirds of the class could make the entire five laps.

Easter, much like Christmas, was a religious holiday that had come about long _after_he had been born, so he never celebrated and didn't care for the tradition, either. So he had nothing to stop him from giving them homework over the holidays, more lenient than he would have been if it had still been winter. The retreating snows did a lot to buoy his mood, at least until he found Hagrid in the library. Ed was still looking for a better heating spell, though he was considering creating the spell himself by this time. Just a shelf over from where he was, the groundskeeper was talking with the three first-years they both knew so well. The blond had heard Hagrid talking, and he didn't like where the conversation was going, so he leaned against the edge of the shelf.

"You've got a dragon?" Ed asked intrusively, keeping his voice low. "You are avare zat is illegal?"

"A dragon?" Ron looked shocked at this, looking all over the room as though it were flying above their heads. "Hagrid, this is a bad idea. They get _huge_, you know, like Hogwarts-huge."

"I know, jus' come down later."

The game keeper shuffled off and Ed, being a little more curious and less paper-bound than his students (which happened to be his fault, seeing as how they had their alchemy notes strewn about the table,) went with him. Hagrid asked how Ed knew but only received a noncommittal grunt. He had actually seen Hagrid with the egg the night before, while he was looking out the window. He hadn't been able to sleep very well but did see the other man head into his house, holding the egg in his hands. Once the two of them came to Hagrid's hut, and the owner let Ed in, the first thing he noticed was the heat. It was soothing, rather than stifling, working wonders for his automail. The small room, which trapped the warmth of the fire and added to it since it couldn't escape, looked almost unchanged since the last time he had been there. The only exception was the black egg that was sitting in the center of the fire, a kettle hanging above it that likely contained heating water. Ed threw himself into a free chair so he could bask in the heat, and was still sprawled in it, dozing lightly, when the others arrived an hour later.

Getting straight to the point, Hagrid said "Yeh wanted to ask somethin'?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "We wanted to know if there was anything besides Fluffy guarding the Stone."

"Can't tell yeh, and I don' know meself; that Stone was almost stolen from Gringotts."

"Oh, but you seem to know everything that goes on around Hogwarts," Hermione complimented, tone light and flattering. Ed had to pat the girl on the back for her deceptiveness; she would've made a good Slytherin. "We were only wondering who had done the guarding, really, who Dumbledore had trusted enough to guard the Stone apart from you." The giant's whiskers twitched with a smile, falling for the flattery.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn' hurt ter tell yeh. Let's see… He borrowed Fluffy from me, and some o' the teachers did spell work. Professor Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Quirrel, Snape, and Dumbledore did somethin' himself."

"He didn't trust you, Ed?"

"I didn't give him zee chance to ask." The conversation stalled with that, but Harry redirected it to another concern of his.

"Hagrid, you're the only one that knows how to get past Fluffy?"

"Only me an' Dumbledore."

"As var as you know," Ed interrupted. Hagrid stared blankly, so Ed explained, "Zere are books here zat explain Vluvvy's veaknesses. I've vound zem, and iv I did, zen I'm sure anyone else could."

"Can we open a window in here? Its way too hot," Ron suddenly interrupted, face flushed from the heat.

"Is that an egg?" Hermione asked, pointing at the dragon egg in the fire.

"Vat else vould it be?" Ed sarcastically remarked.

"Where did you get it?" Ron said, ignoring Ed and Hermione, who were now arguing over the egg. "It must have cost you a fortune to buy it."

" Won it in a game o' cards las' night. I think he was keen to be rid of it, to be honest."

"Hagrid, dragons do breaze vire?" Ed interjected again, a horrible thought coming to mind. The groundskeeper nodded, so he continued, "Zen vat are you goink to do ven it hatches and burns your house down?"

Somehow, the giant of a man didn't hear the second question and had busied himself with stoking the fire. The blond shook his head in and left the hut, as much as he would have loved to stay in there. He still had a few more lessons teach, though it didn't stop Hagrid from sending an owl, letting him know that the egg was hatching. Ed politely declined, deciding the sooner he got out of the dragon business, the better.

Everything was fairly calm for the next few weeks. Most of Ed's classes were outside and they ran, with the occasional class outside to keep them on their toes with alchemy. The trio kept him caught up on Norbert, as Hagrid had named his dragon, and how alarmingly fast he was growing, despite his reluctance to be involved in the matter. He did warn them every time they came by to talk about the dragon to keep it hush-hush, and they admitted after one such visit that Malfoy may have seen Norbert during the hatching. It did explain his smug look lately, which always vanished when Ed told them they were going outside again.

"Vell, keep zee note hidden," he said after dinner. They were in his classroom, and Hermione had told him of Charlie's offer to take Norbert to Romania. "Or, better yet, burn it. Zat vay no one else can read it."

"We can't, Ron's got it with him," Hermione lamented.

"Zat can't be good."

He was only proven right when, on the next Sunday morning, the one after Charlie's friends were supposed to stop by, he heard that Harry, Hermione and somehow Neville had lost their house one-hundred and fifty points. The other members of Gryffindor, except for the Weasleys, had begun to shun the three and Ed found himself on several occasions defending them from other students, having caught them spreading nasty rumors and remarks about them. Ed even went so far as to make an unusual request of Minerva that Wednesday.

"You want to what?" Her face betrayed her, despite the neutral tone; a flash of incredulity had shown before being carefully hidden away.

"I vant to supervise zeir detention. I know zat you are sendink zem out viz Hagrid to zee Vorbidden Vorescht, and I truscht Hagrid, but vatever can injure a unicorn has to be very dangerous. Vat iv he or one ov zee schtudents are injured? Vould zey leave zem in zee vorescht, by zemselves?"

"I see your point, Edward." She sounded weary now, likely wanting him to shut up. "Just tell Hagrid when you see him, so he can do whatever needs to be done."

...And that was how Ed ended up by the edge of the Forbidden Forest at eleven o' clock at night with Hagrid next to him, crossbow loaded in hand, a quiver stocked with bolts slung over his shoulder. A light came into view and a voice drifted out to them– or had they always been there? He hadn't been paying attention again.

"It's about time," Ed called out, seeing the students following Filch. "Have you been talkink to yourselv again, Vilch?" The weird caretaker muttered something about oiled chains as he hobbled off, taking his lantern with him. "Vell," the blond said, rubbing his hands together with far too much glee, "ve'll be goink into zee Vorest tonight."

"The forest?" Malfoy looked up at him and Ed could see the soft moonlight reflecting off his wide, fearful eyes. "There are all sorts of monsters in there, like werewolves."

"So zen you schouldn't have been schtupid enough to make up some schtory about a dragon in zee tover. You do zee crime, you do zee time."

"But there was a dragon!" he cried. "I saw it–"

"Yeah, and I'm a zousand years old," Ed scoffed with a blatant roll of his eyes.

"I'm not going in there." The idiot blond crossed his arms defiantly, turning his head away so he was looking opposite the Forbidden Forest.

"Yeh are if yeh want te stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid reminded. "Yeh'll do somethin' useful or yeh'll get out of here." Malfoy uncrossed his arms and looked somewhere between the gamekeeper's legs and the ground. "Right then, let's get started. We're gonna do this carefully, an' I don' want no one takin' any risks. Come over here a moment," he ordered, taking the lantern with him. They all came over to the edge of the woods, and Hagrid lifted his lantern high into the air, allowing for silver-colored splotches splattered across the ground and vegetation to shine against the light. "That silvery stuff on the ground? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn out there that's been hurt by summat, and we're gonna try and find the poor thing, put ter out of its misery if we have to."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy again, the coward.

"Do you really zink zat ve're zat helpless?" Ed asked. "Zat's vyy ve're here, blockhead."

"We're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trails," Hagrid said, ignoring the two blonds. "Me, Harry an' Hermione'll go one way, an' Draco, Neville an' Professor Elric'll go the other. If anyone finds the unicorn, send up green sparks. If yeh get inter trouble, send up red. Let's go."

They parted ways, with Hagrid and the two of the trio going left, while Ed went with the idiot and Neville to the right. Ed had taken out his wand and used an illuminating spell when the canopy became too thick to see the moon overhead. The two boys stayed close to him, unwilling to get lost.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Neville asked softly, still afraid from Malfoy's yelling earlier.

Ed shrugged, saying, "Maybe. Unicorns are very vascht, and volves don't live around here, so zat seems unlikely." There was a break in the leaves and Ed looked up at the stars, trying to gauge their position. The sky was an odd purplish-red, and a scarlet orb clearly hung in the bizarre horizon. "Seems razer ominous, Mars. Maybe one ov us vill die."

There was a scream behind them as well as a flash of light and Ed turned around. If he was playing a prank on someone, that would have been the perfect time to strike; but he wasn't, and wasn't pleased at all to find Malfoy laughing behind a pale Neville, who seemed to be frozen in place. Ed placed a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder and glared at the other first year, who was still howling with laughter.

"Do zat again," the eldest growled in a low voice, "and I vill tie you to a tree. Juscht imagine vat zee creatures zat live here vill do ven zey vind such fresch meat." Malfoy turned the color of spoiled milk as the sound of Hagrid stomping through the trees reached their ears, the lantern shining through the trunks. "Zis one," Ed said, turning to the groundskeeper, "is an idiot. Vould you like to trade?"

Hagrid didn't say a word, instead lifting Malfoy up by the scruff of his cloak and walking away, lantern grasped in the other hand. Ed extinguished his wand and followed him, the other hand keeping a tight hold on Neville's wrist. He had been standing stock-still in his stupor, but followed willingly after some tugging on his arm. Several minutes passed with only the sound of twigs crunching underfoot, leaves swiping across the hard earth, and the occasional low rumble from Hagrid, who was no doubt insulting the Slytherin under his breath. Not that Ed blamed him, really. The kid was a lot of things, none of them good. Without any warning, two shapes became visible and were plunged into the lantern light, blinking furiously as the light hit their eyes. It was none other than Harry and Hermione.

"Right," Hagrid grunted, still angry. "We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' thanks to you two. We're changin' groups: Neville, yer comin' with me an' Hermione, an' Harry, you go with the Professor an' this idiot."

He let go of Malfoy, who barely kept his face from smashing into the ground below by breaking his fall with his hands. The first year dusted himself off with a glare towards the giant, but said nothing. Hagrid led the others away, taking his lantern with them. Ed reignited his wand and held it high, the blood ethereal with its mercurial appearance. They walked on, the vegetation thickening as they moved further, overtaking the path set into the ground. Everything became wilder as time passed deeper into the heart of the forest, the trees larger and further spread apart, the knots and roots sticking up through the ground, some as wide as Ed's waist. A clearing became visible ahead, where a twisted old oak sat in the center, larger than any other tree they had seen before; its gnarled branches spread out overhead, swathing the ground below in darkness. The blond was detangling himself from a particularly thorny bush when he saw it.

Lying in a pool of its own metallic blood was the unicorn, dead as a doornail. A pearly-white mane was spread out over long-dead leaves, its legs splayed out at unnatural angles; it had likely broken its legs when it fell to the ground. Its pure white skin glowed with a soft aura of the same shade in the darkness, literally giving off light. Ed put out his wand again, creeping closer to the cadaver, wary of the beast's attacker. He crouched down next to the body, and placed one hand on its neck, which was slathered with more blood. The silvery liquid was weeping from a claw-shaped wound that stretched down from the base of its jaw to the unicorn's collarbone, thin but deadly. One of the boys pulled out their wand behind him, fabric rustling as it was moved, and a crackle as they sent up green sparks to alert Hagrid. Ed froze when he heard a noise ahead of them, spun around and pushed the two boys as silently as possible back into the shrubbery. Luck was on their side; the other creature had neither heard nor noticed them, and they had missed the thorn-covered bush that Ed had passed through minutes ago.

A shadow emerged from the left side of the clearing, vaguely humanoid in shape. It was intelligent enough to ear a shroud of some sort, effectively hiding its identity and origins. The figure reached the unicorn, the natural light weakly illuminating the unknown being, barely strong enough to show that the cloth it wore was a muddy brown. The figure lowered what was presumably its head to the downed horse's neck, one hand steadying itself on the corpse's shoulder.

"AARGH!"

Malfoy screamed and bolted, startling Ed and Harry. The figure leapt to its feet and stalked towards them at a fast pace, eager to remove the two intruders from its purpose. Ed swiftly raised his wand, aimed, and sent a red jet of light at the creature, forcing it to dodge. Deciding they weren't worth it, the creature ran off into the trees. Ed looked to Harry and found him lying on his back, one elbow propping him up and his other hand holding his head. Ed sent up red and green sparks into the air for Hagrid and quickly checked for any wounds that the boy may have received.

"Vere does it hurt?" he asked softly. He had hit his head enough to know that loud voices plus a headache was not very fun.

"It's nothing; I just tripped on a root."

Malfoy came back, face still pale, before Ed could assess Harry's statement and deem it a lie or the truth. The kid insisted he was fine, so now Malfoy was the priority. The alchemist reached out and snagged the platinum blond by the crook of his arm before he could dart off again.

"Schtay here," he ordered. "Zee ozers vill be here in a vew minutes, and iv you had any sense, you vouldn't have run ovv. Zere are zings here vich vill eat you, and I von't schtop zem iv you keep runnink avay."

Malfoy dumbly sat down on an exposed root, face blank as a slate. Ed went back to inspect the unicorn, to see if the attacker had done anything to it in the short time he had been by it. A minute passed, then two, before Hagrid had come by.

"What happened?" the giant yelled, bursting into the clearing, with Hermione and Neville behind him. "I saw the sparks, who's hurt."

"No one," Ed tersely answered, still by the dead animal. "But zere vould have been iv Malvoy didn't come back. He ran ovv ven vee vound zee unicorn and vatever had killed it, which ran ovv ven I tried Schtupevyink it. Not zee moscht productive day today, it vould seem."

A loud snort punctuated the end of his sentence and, when he looked up, saw several thestrals hovering around the edge of the clearing, drawn by the scent of unicorn blood. They didn't look hungry, as they usually did when offered fresh meat, only curious. Hagrid noticed the blonde's distracted gaze and spotted the equestrians as well; he told Ed to take the students back to the castle and that he would handle the unicorn. He nodded and loudly whistled, catching the students' attention. Three thestrals trotted over, one stopping to dip its muzzle down by the unicorn blood. It lifted its head up and sneezed, sending little droplets of blood flying into the air.

"All right, you kids, ve're goink to have a quick lesson in Care ov Magical Creatures. Zese are zrestrals," Ed said, patting one on the head.

"There's nothing there," Malfoy said, attitude returning.

"Is zat so? Neville can see zem." Indeed, the boy had paled again, though he seemed to be recovering well from his shock earlier that night. "Don't vorry about vyy, ve're juscht zee schpecial people around here. All right, up you go." He picked up Malfoy and placed him on the closest thestral's back. The horse-like creature twisted its head around as best as it could, baring its teeth at him and hissing like a bird. "It's vine, ignore him. Or, better yet, you could eat him."

Hermione was placed down behind him and was immediately received better than the Slytherin. Neville carefully climbed atop the second thestral's back and helped pull Harry up after. Both were taken well by the thestral, which took a special interest in Neville. The third thestral skittered away from Ed before calming enough to allow him to sit on its back; Hagrid, looking over, identified him as Tenebrus, who was apparently always fretful when being ridden. His reputation was solidified when he galloped out of the clearing while Ed was looking back to the others, ensuring they were ready. He nearly fell off the horse-creature's back and barely managed to hang on by tightening his legs around the thestral's sides. The others, at least, had the sense to hang on to their mounts when they galloped after Tenebrus. In minutes, Ed was being dumped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by the firstborn creature, which trotted away with an accomplished spring in its step. The students, when their thestrals had come to a halt, slid off carefully as Ed picked himself up off the ground with a groan, glaring at where Tenebrus had disappeared.

"All right, at least ve're out ov zere," he grumbled.

* * *

_It must have been a curse. Or some cruel trick played by the Truth. Whatever it was, Ed wanted it to stop before it could go any further. People were dying way too fast and he wanted it to stop, now. Al was sick, Winry was sick, their kids were sic– and with what else but the same sickness that had killed Trisha Elric, the Elric brothers' mother, all those years before? And there was nothing that Ed could do, nothing at all._

"_Its fine, Ed," Al reassured._

"_No it isn't! You and Winry are both sick– I don't think I could handle it if you died," he whispered. "I'm supposed to protect you Al, and I can't even do that!"_

"_Ed," the younger repeated, pulling his brother's face down so they were eye level. "It's fine. You said before, 'You have two good legs. Use them.' You've got to get over this; even if you don't want to live, you could at the very least live it for us. So that, when we do meet again, you can tell us how the world's changed and what you've learned about everything. Promise." Al put out his pinky finger, and for a moment, he felt like he was a little kid again, not an older man lying on his deathbed._

"_I promise," he said. _

_He grasped his brother's finger with his own and they shook on it. He gave his younger brother one last hug and he felt himself shaking, crying for the first time in years. He could feel the life slowly slipping out of his brother's body, his arms slipping down to the bed, pulled down by gravity as he slowly lost the will to keep them up. And he didn't let go, not even when Ling came in an hour later to see if Al was any better. Ed wanted the world to stop the moment Al died, but as with all things, it kept moving on._

_And so he lived and learned, for his brother, as he promised to._

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_INext chapter: Reunion_

_Review4U: Well, no one's disagreeing, so I guess I have no choice. Take a guess as to the bird. It's actually fairly common, from what I've seen. Ed waking up under the bed, as far as I have planned, has no significance and is purely fro my own amusement, sorry. And yes, Voldemort should be, but he's a little, ah, _preoccupied_ at the moment. I think it'll be clearer in a bit._

_The OMG Cat: I'm not going to ask what happened, but at least there was something good, right?_

_Guest: Excited, aren't you? Yes, I'm sure many people do. Actually, I wonder who would kill who if you locked them both in the same room... And disabled Ed's alchemy so he couldn't escape._

_Kuro: I'm glad you like it. I'm mostly trying to keep it in third person from Ed's POV, but there will be important scenes where it changes. When that happens, it's usually _very_ important._

_I'm well aware of that. That's why this is turning out far more AU than I originally anticipated, and you're not the first person to address that, either. I've been talking with two other reviewers, who I won't name out of respect for their privacy, and both have presented me with different possibilities as to how that statement could be true. One said the same thing you did, and said that Ed may have crossed through the Gate like in the 2003 anime. The other suggested that that Amestris and possibly the surrounding countries were far more technologically advanced, but fell due to unknown circumstances. I'm not saying it is either one, or neither, since I haven't decided myself. Personally, I was thinking of Rome, but on a much larger scale... And you've got to think of Father. He knew about Human Transmutation before just about everyone else in the world. I don't think it's much of a stretch to say he had _some_ knowledge of military engineering and the like._

_You and everyone else, hmm? And after putting all of you readers through this much, I think I'd be too afraid to even try. Not that I would, of course. I love this fic too much._

_That's depressing. And morbid. I like :D_

_Thank you very much for your encouragement. I hope my somewhat-explanation-thing helped, seeing as how I don't really know what happened, even though I'm the writer. That's probably not good. I'll figure it out, don't worry._

_Sol Fox: You have disabled your PM feature, so your answer goes here instead. I haven't told anyone my gender, and I will neither confirm nor deny that statement. And I like your definition of awesome._

_That is disturbing. I am not that good of a writer, but if you look at the other reviews, it seems that plenty of other people have found a bone to pick with me... No offense, of course. They're your opinions and I respect them. They force me to think. *coughs* And, ah, that's kind of why I'm looking for some help with editing the second arc. I rewrote Arc One three times before I posted it, and trust me, it's better this way. The first version was about 16k and as amazing as a pile of dog feces. And it won't be writer block that does me in, either. It'll be you all, scaring me to death. At least that's how I imagine it going down._


	12. Reunion

**Mass edit: Snape's name has been fixed, thanks to Allyieh.**

A/N: This is the last chapter of Arc One. I have to thank you all for putting up with me so far and enjoying yourselves along the way. I couldn't ask for more. Updates on Arc Two's progress can be found on my profile, after all the other stuff I put up there. Also, the reviews are on top so I can make a clean ending for the chapter. I've also fixed a scene in chapter eleven, so if any of you want to check it out, it's there.

On another note, I finally found it! There was one certain crossover fic that I read that inspired me to write Amaranthine. After several months of searching, I've found it again! It's The Last Affair by Black and White Wolf. There are clearly not many similarities between them, but it was what actually got me to write all this down.

Thanks go out to: DGntsl, AquilineFeline, Guest, Takei Daloui, Four Leafed Fortune, Demon Raily, Son Luna, Blue Rosed Rabbit, Luna 13, demonicfate616, Pokeshadow55, Kuroki-keropi, Guest, Mon Spirit Libre, and to everyone else that has reviewed this fic.

* * *

_Guest: Thanks. Just what I need, peer pressure._

_Guest: Glad you love it, but the guide's not mine. I looked up a guide and wrote up a shortened version, which is the one you see now._

_The OMG Cat: Yeah, hugs! *hugs*_

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**Warning: Some violence. Alternate language.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Reunion**

Reunion – noun; 1, the act of uniting again; 2, the state of being united again; 3, a gathering of relatives, friends, or associates at regular intervals or after separation

* * *

"_He fell silent. For several moments they all did, and the quiet had the feel of a deliberate thing. Then Eddie said, "All right, we're back together again. What the hell do we do next?""_

–_Stephen King, "The Dark Tower"_

* * *

There is an important lesson everyone must learn at some point in their lives, so long as they live long enough to learn it: exams are boring. Not only are they boring, but they are ridiculously tedious, and tend to take place in rooms that are swelteringly hot for most of the test takers. The heat didn't bother Ed, but he could see that the students were clearly suffering. They were all in the Great Hall, from the first years to the seventh, seeing as how everyone was learning the same courses that year. The alchemist was holding an Anti-Cheating Quill, trying to understand how it prevented a student from cheating. Flitwick refused to tell, so Ed was left to figure it out himself, and was quickly getting nowhere.

The written exams, in the teacher's opinion, were easy, as all they had to do was answer some questions about the alchemical laws and how they were practical to alchemy. Besides the fact that they were _alchemical_ laws, of course; anyone who was stupid enough to write that would fail. The practical exams were more interesting and even simpler; successfully transmute a plank of wood. Hermione burned hers, as did several other students, so Ed still had to pass them. In actuality, only Hermione had burned hers on purpose– the others had given the array too much energy.

No one bothered him for several days after exams had ended, not until he had the misfortune to be happened upon by the Golden Trio while sleeping outside. He had been leaning against the lone tree that stood by the edge of the lake, and was woken by Ron who had been loudly proclaiming that tests made him sick. Preferring to be alone just then, Ed slipped past them, unnoticed by the disappointed Hermione, disgruntled Harry, and lazy Ron.

Something struck the teacher as odd as he walked through the corridors, heading to his classroom. It was the odd feeling that being in close proximity to a Philosopher's Stone gave him; a quick scan of the hall showed there was nothing larger than a fly in the hall besides himself. He then spotted a door down the hall, the one that Fluffy was behind. The feeling grew stronger and he stepped over, touching the doorknob. The door creaked open and a rumbling snore blasted through the room, the tinkle of a harp barely distinguishable beneath the noise.

Ed sidestepped the still open door and looked back at Fluffy. His three heads were on the floor, supported by his paws. One was drooling out of its mouth. Satisfied that the Cerberus was fast asleep, Ed walked across the large room to the trapdoor, the portal maybe half as large as his classroom. Miniscule when compared to its furry guardian. He lifted the door up, which was surprisingly light considering its size, and slid down the hole, the door shutting itself as he fell. He realized too late that it was a bad idea. Breaking one's leg a couple of times tends to teach one that jumping or falling from unknown or great heights is a bad idea.

Luck was once again on Ed's side, as he fell onto a soft, warm cushion. He slowly stood up, vertigo threatening to hit him like a train. The air was humid and warm, making his clothes stick to his skin, but the room was dark, likely purposely so. He pulled a pack of matches out of his jacket, back from the winter months, lit one and held it in front of his face. A mass of snaking tendrils had been going for him, and he realized that he had landed on the plant when he fell into the room. The Devil's Snare, as he recognized it, hated heat and light; staying true to the myth, the plant _hissed_ at Ed and slunk away from the sudden light, weak as it was. Even so, it allowed for him to leave the room unmolested.

The corridor sloped downwards, into what should have been the school, leading Ed to wonder where all the space came from. Honestly, Fluffy's room was on the _third floor_. Judging by the angle of the slope, the drop down into the Devil Snare's room, and the distance he had walked, he should have been walking through the main entrance. But, of course, magic had the potential to defy physics. No, alchemy did not defy physics. It only seemed to. Ed grimaced as he stepped in a puddle of sludge, likely from the dripping water on the walls. It had better not be another one of those plants...

When the mysterious substance did nothing and there were no sounds of various compounds experiencing chemical breakdown due to acidic or basic substances, Ed forged on. In minutes, a bright light appeared at the other end of the corridor and opened up into a large, high-ceiling room. The teacher grimaced when he saw the size of the chamber, annoyed at how it continued to defy physics, but focused his attention on two things: the giant, Gothic-styled door on the other end of the room, and the glittering, flying things above him. They looked like birds, but why would a door need a bird? No, they must have been keys. Flying keys.

Ed sighed at the realization, and decided going after the questionable implements was not necessary. He walked over to the door, inspected it, clapped his hands together, and pressed them to the door. There was a quick flash of alchemical light and when it disappeared, nothing had happened. The blond cursed at the door and Flitwick for making things so difficult and stalked off to find something, _anything_ that would help him open the door. His mouth twitched as he laid eyes on the brooms. He had no doubts as to why Flitwick had conveniently placed three of them in the room. He mounted one of them and took off into the air, thinking.

Logic insisted that the key would be fairly large in size, large enough to snugly fit into the keyhole. Probably made of silver, bronze, copper, and possibly painted black. Gothic, like the door was. Keeping a careful eye out, he allowed the broom to float, mingling with the flock, searching for the key that would open the door. Some were slow, some were fast, some were huge and others small. He had to extricate himself several times from the swirl of feathers, feathers somehow finding their way into his mouth. After removing himself for the fifth time, and spitting out a couple of white feathers, he spotted the key he wanted. It was down near the bottom of the group, with bright blue wings that looked far too small for its size.

He slowly descended to the key's level and reached out for it. The thing purposely dropped down a foot, out of his reach. Now angry, Ed sped after the silver key, managing to corner it, the metal smashing into the granite and damaging a wing as it did so. With the key now dazed, if metal could be, he triumphantly snatched it out of the air, landed by the door and hopped off the broom. For some reason, it floated back over to it companions as the alchemist stuffed the struggling key as carefully as he could into the slot. The metal wriggled in his grip, going slack as the bolt turned and the door opened. The key removed itself from the keyhole and heavily flew back up to hover with the rest of its glittering brethren.

The next room was pitch black, but when the alchemist stepped in, lights burst into life and the door shut behind him, trapping him inside. The lights were focused on a larger-than-life chessboard, with equally enormous pieces to complete the set. Ed scowled at the ivory-and-ebony board and walked around the board. A pawn sprang to life, jumping off the board and pulling out two daggers, which were held menacingly before it.

"Zat's againscht zee rules," Ed snapped at it. "Pieces muscht schtay on zee board unless taken by an opponent's piece."

The pawn froze in place, contemplating what he said. Reaching a decision, the statue sheathed its blades and resumed its former position, moving back to its place on the board. The king and queen looked over at him, but made no attempt to stop him from walking around the edge of the board and going to the door. After stepping through, the door shut behind him as it did when he entered the chess room. A putrid stench immediately assaulted him and the blond gagged, coming close to throwing up his lunch he ate hours before. He threw one arm around his face and lifted the collar of his jacket over his mouth and nose in a vain attempt to block it out as he looked around for the source.

Facing the opposite wall, at the other end of the room, was a troll. It was larger than the one he had seen earlier in the year, on Halloween. The troll, seeming to realize it had a guest, turned around, throwing its club onto its shoulder. It squinted, waggled its tiny ears, and bellowed. Ed clapped his hands together and a stone fist shot out of the floor and did an uppercut on the troll's jaw. The troll swung its club, breaking the stone fist. The blow had a little too much momentum, and kept going until... The wood met the wielder's face and the troll swayed on its feet and fell to the floor; apparently it put a little extra _oomph_ into that blow.

Ed rushed out of the room, eager to be rid of the smell and came into a room smaller than all the rest, except maybe the Devil's Snare room. It was difficult to judge its dimensions with the plant in the way. But this room was unique, in that as soon as the blond had entered, two rows of fire had come to life, purple behind and black ahead. There was also a line of bottles on a table, all of various heights. The table was simple and unadorned, without as much as a cloth atop it. A roll of paper sat in front of the middling bottles, which was quickly picked up, unrolled and read.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

The riddle was easy for him, of course. The riddle relied on logic, something that a large number of wizards, in Ed's experience, entirely lacked; the same could also be said for common sense on their part. In a minute, he had figured out the potion lineup: from the left to the right, it was unidentified poison, nettle wine, the advancement potion, another unidentified poison, the third unknown poison, the second bottle of nettle wine, and the retreating potion. The scroll was rolled up and placed on the table again and the advancement potion picked up. The bottle was tiny, barely enough for a single person to drink. The blond shrugged, unconcerned with the thought, and uncorked the bottle. He downed the contents, which were cold as ice and corked the bottle again before placing it on the table.

He walked through the black flames, which licked against his skin but didn't burn him. It was an odd sensation, to say the least. All that he could see for a moment were the dark flames, which seemed to draw in and absorb all the available light. The flames disappeared as he came through the other end, leaving the teacher in a circular room with a series of small steps leading down to a sunken platform below. In the middle of the room stood the Mirror of Erised, and before it, Quirrel; the man turned around, seemingly unsurprised to see his colleague.

"I have to say, I wasn't expecting you, Edward," he casually commented. "But I did know you were friends with Potter and Severus. You are quite annoying; let's get this over with so I can retrieve the Stone."

Ed's face fell into a look of boredom and he clapped his hands together before ducking down and pressing them to the floor. A stone fist sprouted from the ground, catching the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in its stony vice grip. He yelped as the fingers curled around him and struggled in the miniscule pocket of space he was left with.

"How about you calmly let go ov your vand and vee talk zis out? Man to man?" The fist exploded, sending chunks of rock flying everywhere. Several jets of light followed, piercing the cloud of rock dust the destroyed fist had created. "Good; I don't like talkink anyvays."

He ducked down as another jet of light passed overhead, smashing into the wall and knocking some bricks loose. Dust rained down on him but the wall held fast. The alchemist clapped his hands together again and drew a spear out of the floor, which was void of its usual adornments. He rushed at the deranged teacher and swung the spear low, catching him in the legs and tripping him. As he fell back, Quirrel used another spell and ropes came out of the end of his wand, wrapping around Ed's arms and legs, trapping the spear against his arm. He managed to deconstruct the bindings and barely dodged a green spell that was sent his way. Was it suddenly Christmas or something?

Going for a different tactic, Ed swung his spear at Quirrel, shouting, "Vyy are you doing this?" The spear stuck his wrist, breaking it, but it didn't prevent the madman form sending off another magical burst of energy, breaking his spear as they connected.

"What do you think I am, some cliché villain from a badly written piece of fiction? I'll never tell you!" he laughed, managing to sound just like what he was denying.

"Idiot," the blond muttered.

He clapped his hands together again, only to be clipped by another spell. He hissed at the pain, decided it was just a scratch, and decided that this had to be ended soon. His hands met the ground again, but this time, a series of spikes came up from the ground, several piercing his clothes and held him aloft. The spikes then melded themselves around him like a straightjacket, crushing his body and preventing him from waving his wand. Ed stomped over to the insane teacher and placed one hand on the rock while Quirrel glared at him from above.

"Now, voo ordered you to do zis?"

"Like I would ever tell you," Quirrel spat.

"I could tighten zis, iv I wanted to," Ed mused, patting the stone with one hand. "Crusch your bones very slowly, painfully; it vould take a long time to die."

Quirrel looked away and mumbled something under his breath.

"Vat vas zat?" The other man glared again. "Vine, have it your vay."

There was a quick burst of light and the stone prison shifted, slowly tightening around the other teacher. He gasped as the rock pressed in on him, straining his ribcage. Ed didn't like torturing people, but he needed to know who ordered the teacher to steal the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Fine!" the man screamed as a rib cracked, audible through the wall of stone. "I'll tell you. Homunculus, he said his name was Homunculus."

Ed narrowed his eyes and threw an elbow into the other teacher's temple, effectively knocking him out. With that loose end temporarily tied up, Ed walked in front of the mirror, understanding its purpose. It was the final guard for the Sorcerer's Stone, somehow enchanted inside of the mirror. He shakily exhaled and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He saw a neon red sitting on a table, much like the one back in the potions room, though without the accompanying bottles. The blond reached a hand out and hesitated. Deciding trying was better than not, he pressed his hand against the mirror. It pushed _through_ the surface, and he grasped his hand around the Stone, taking it out of the Mirror of Erised. He turned around and saw Harry standing in the entrance, eyes wide with fear. He barely reacted when the Stone was thrown at him, and ended up being hit. Ed slapped his forehead when the kid fell over, likely unconscious. He spared a glance to Quirrel, who was still unconscious, and took a step forward when he saw Dumbledore enter the chamber, wand out.

"Good zing you're here," Ed said with false cheeriness. "Quirrel's been schtopped, zee Schtone is save, and it's all vizout your help. Now let's go, I zink Quirrel broke a rib and zee Schtone might have given zee kid a concussion." Ed transmuted the stone chamber back into the floor and the Headmaster caught the former prisoner. There was a splash of blood staining his cloak and the alchemist winced. "My bad." He went over to Harry and lifted him up with one arm, draping him over his shoulder. He looked over to Dumbledore. "You know vat I juscht realized? I could have Apparated in here and saved myselv so much trouble."

And so he did, though instead of coming into the room he left it, Apparating into the Hospital Wing where Madame Pomfrey was laying Ron down onto a bed despite his protests. He flinched when he saw Ed carrying his friend, making the nurse look up and cluck in exasperation. He dropped the first year onto a bed and sat down on another one.

"He's all yours now; Dumbles vill be here soon enough to explain everyzing."

The teacher promptly fell asleep, the others' screeches of surprise as they saw Quirrel barely reaching him. His sleep was dreamless, ending far too soon when a hand touched his shoulder. A voice spoke but the words were jumbled and made less than no sense. He reluctantly opened his eyes and found the other person to be Madame Pomfrey, with Ron and Hermione standing behind her. He rolled his head slightly and found Dumbledore standing in front of the bed.

"Vat, can a guy not get any sleep around here?" he asked with a yawn, sliding himself into a sitting position with his back against the headboard.

"Edward," Dumbledore said gravely, dismissing the school nurse, "we need to know what happened after you met up with Professor Quirrel." The blond frowned at the phrasing.

"You make it sound like I vas plannink somezing viz him. Do you care iv zey hear?" He jerked a thumb at Ron and Hermione, the latter looking slightly hurt at being referred to as 'zey'. Dumbledore shook his head and Ed stretched his arms over his head wit ha yawn.

"Vell," he began, preparing for what was undoubtedly a long discussion, "Quirrel schtarted talkink, said I vas annoying and zat he schould get zings over viz. Vee vought, he acted like a cheesy nineteen-sixty comic book villain, and I managed to trap him viz alchemy. He refused to schpeak at virscht so I tightened the stone around his body. Might've cracked a rib viz zat. He admitted zat someone had told him to schteal zee Schtone, said zey called zemselves 'Homunculus'." Ed could feel a look of hate on his face but didn't bother to try and hide it. "I knocked him out, got zee Schtone out ov zee Mirror ov Erised, saw Harry in zee doorvay and srew it to him. I don't know iv he vas in schock or somezink, but he didn't catch it and zee Schtone knocked him out ven it hit his head. Zen you came in and you already know vat happened avter zat."

"Homunculus is a word you're familiar with?" Ed scowled darkly.

"Unvortunately." He paused and Dumbledore waited for an explanation. "It is a vord zat revers to a victional artivicial human, usually created viz magic or alchemy. Attempts to create one viz alchemy are looked down upon, as it skirts zee taboo ov human transmutation. I do not know iv it is possible viz magic."

"What do you believe the Sorcerer's Stone is, Edward?" He blinked in confusion until he understood what the Headmaster meant, and bared his teeth in a smile.

"And vyy vould I do zat?"

"Because I took your advice and called some old friends up. One of them requested to meet you."

One of the Hospital Wong doors opened an Ed's eyes snapped over to the visitor. About 6'4", with flaxen colored hair, a similarly colored beard and auric eyes behind simple reading glasses; the man was out of place with his Muggle-styled clothes, which consisted of a tan windbreaker over a white dress shirt, black slacks and tan nondescript shoes. Ed bared his teeth again, but not in a smile, and it was not directed at the Headmaster this time around.

"Van Hohenheim said he knew you."

There was a gasp from Hermione, but Ed only felt the cold bite of fury when he heard the name. It had dulled with time, but hearing the name again allowed for the ice to harden again, even more so when he realized he was still alive. While he hadn't been there when Mom died, Ed could understand. It was for their protection. But there was no reason, at least none that he could see, that Hohenheim hadn't been there for his own son's wedding and burial. Late would have been acceptable, but he hadn't even _attempted_ to show his face. Before he realized what he was doing, Ed had his feet on the floor and he was standing in front of the older man. Hohenheim was stock-still, very aware as to what his son's first intentions would be.

Instead, he clenched his fists tighter and spat out, "Come."

Walking stiffly, the younger alchemist left the Hospital Wing, not even bothering to check if his father was following behind him. With something approaching a military march, Ed returned to his classroom. The only way he knew that Hohenheim was following was from the clack of his soles against the stone. After entering the classroom, he hung by the door and slammed it shut once his father entered and messily locked it, hand slipping twice as he attempted to turn the knob to check it.

It was only when they were alone that Ed finally let loose, slugging Hohenheim squarely on the jaw with enough force that it cracked on contact. The other man at least had the decency to keep quiet as the blond began to rage, unconsciously switching to Amestrian.

"_I can accept the fact that you wanted to protect us when you left Mom. Fine. Her death was purely coincidental, and had nothing to do with you. And once everything was fixed, you left again, to visit Mom." _Hohenheim's jaw cracked as it fixed itself, interrupting Ed for the briefest of moments, giving him the chance to try and to push aside his grief. For now, at least. _"And then you left, _again_. I can agree with that; none of us have ever been much to settle down. But then Al got married, and we sent you letters. A _year_ in advance. Then five years later Al d-died, and Winry, and their kids. You were a grandfather, you_ _bastard. And you couldn't even work up the decency to say goodbye."_

Ed was looking at the wall as he finished, unable to look at the other man for another moment. He hadn't talked much, if at all, about Al since that day. He never forgot him of course, but talking about the funeral still tested him and made it hard to keep his emotions in check.

"_I'm sorry."_

The voice itself made the younger angry, but he stopped himself at both the words themselves and the feeling behind them. Ed risked a glance at his father, and was shocked. He was crying, not something that the teacher was prepared to deal with. He didn't have the chance, because Hohenheim continued.

"_I'm sorry, and there's nothing I can say or do now or ever that will ever make up for the times I should have been there but wasn't. Certainly not for missing something as important for that. But it is always a sad day that a father must see his son buried, or brother see brother. If it makes you feel better, then you could always hit me again."_

"_Make me feel better,"_ Ed sighed. He was still angry, but a lot of the fury he had felt was gone after seeing Hohenheim... break down. _"It's not about what I feel, idiot. It's about what Al would feel. And he'd be angry if I punched you again."_

Drained, Ed let himself slide against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, giving Hohenheim a moment to compose himself. Before he knew it, darkness had fallen and he was asleep, lying on the floor. Hohenheim shook his head slightly, a smile on his face and face now free of tear tracks. Without speaking, he picked up Ed, entered his room, and left him on the bed.

There would be more time to speak later.

* * *

A flicker of gold was winking, hovering over him. Was it the Snitch? He tried to move his arms, but they were too heavy. He blinked, and the gold took form as a floating pair of glasses. Another blink allowed for the face of the Headmaster to swim into view, as though through a haze of smoke. The elderly man was smiling at him, not a flicker of concern visible on his features.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore greeted. Harry stared at him as his mind began to whir, remembering what had happened.

"Sir, the Stone! There was–"

"Calm yourself, Harry, you are a little behind the rest of us. The Stone is safe now."

"Then where is it?"

"Please relax, or Madame Pomfrey will throw me out."

Harry swallowed, hard, trying to keep a lid on his swirling thoughts, and looked around the room. It was large, long, and from the mention of Madame Pomfrey, he guessed he must have been in the Hospital Wing. Next to Dumbledore was a cart covered with towers of sweets.

"Gifts from your friends and admirers," the Headmaster said, noticing where Harry had been gazing. "What happened down in the dungeons between Professors Elric Quirrel, and you is a complete secret, so naturally, everyone in the school has heard about it. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat, no doubt believing it would amuse you. Madame Pomfrey, however, believed it would be very unhygienic and confiscated it."

"You have been here three days in–" he pulled out a silver pocket watch, checking it, "–one hour. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be relieved to see you up and about; they have been worried about your well-being."

"The Stone, sir–"

"I see that you will not be derailed. Very well, the Stone; Professor Quirrel did not manage to steal it. Professor Elric had stopped him in time, and I had come in shortly after Quirrel had been stopped."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair, as no sooner had I reached London did I realize the place I needed to be was the one I had left. I had arrived just after you were knocked out."

"Knocked out?"

"Yes, you had an unfortunate accident with the Stone. Professor Elric said he had tossed it to you but you failed to catch it, and it collided with your skull."

"What happened to it? The Stone, I mean."

"It was destroyed shortly after you had been brought here."

"Destroyed? But your friend, Nicholas Flamel..."

"You know about Nicholas? You had researched properly, didn't you? Well, Nicholas and I had a little chat, and we agreed that destroying the Sorcerer's Stone would be for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough of the Elixir stored to settle their affairs, and then, yes, they will die." Harry must have looked odd because Dumbledore smiled at him. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicholas and Perenelle, I'm sure it must feel as though they are going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was not such a wonderful thing; as much money and life as you could ever want, in the very palm of your hand. The two things that most humans would choose above all else, but humans have quite the knack of choosing precisely that which is worst for them."

Dumbledore hummed softly and looked to the ceiling, giving Harry a moment to organize his thoughts.

"Sir? What exactly _did_ happen down there?"

"Ah, that would be for Professor Elric to tell you, wouldn't it? I'm certain that Professor Quirrel is in no condition to inform you at the moment."

Dumbledore inclined his head, looking at something over to Harry's left. He turned his head, and there he was. Quirrel was lying on a bed three away from him, one hand chained to the bed post. His wand was nowhere in sight and Harry could see s thick swath of bandages peeking out from where his hospital shirt had ridden up. The man was clearly unconscious, chest rising and falling softly against the restricting binding.

"Is it safe to keep him here?"

"Entirely. Madame Pomfrey is keeping him under with a selection of spells."

Harry swallowed again, before asking, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know. Things I want to know the truth about."

"Ah, the truth; it is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. In any case, I will still answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg that you'll forgive me. I shall not lie, of course."

"Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me. Why?"

"The very first thing you ask me," Dumbledore sighed, "I cannot tell you. Not today, not now. You will surely know one day, but put it from your mind for now. When you are older, when you are ready, you will know."

"Why couldn't he kill me?"

"Your mother had given her life to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark, though no visible sign. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person that had loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. When Voldemort tried to curse you, it could not penetrate that protection and rebounded on itself, killing him instead."

Dumbledore looked out to the windowsill, where a bird had perched itself. Harry took the time he was lent to dry his eyes and form his next question.

"And the invisibility cloak– do you know who sent it to me?"

"That would have been m," he answered, eyes twinkling. "Your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought that you might like it. Useful things... Your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"There is just one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did Ed–"

"Professor Elric, Harry."

"Professor Elric, right. How did he get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"You had seen that? I'm glad you asked me that, it was one of my more brilliant ideas. Between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone but not use it, would be able to get it. Otherwise they would just see themselves making gold or making the Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes..."

"There is just one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"E– Professor Elric, why was he there? He didn't know about Quirrel, did he?"

"I don't know myself, Harry. Whatever his reasons were, they were his own and he has not seen fit to share.

"Now, enough questions. I suggest that you make a head start on these sweets. Ah, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I was unfortunate enough in my own youth to come across a vomit flavoured one, and since then I've greatly lost my liking for them. Though I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiled and popped a golden-brown bean into his mouth. He choked, crying out, "Alas! Ear wax!"

* * *

Madame Pomfrey, as Harry soon learned, was a kind woman but strict when it came to her injured charges. She had resisted strongly against his pleads to let his two best friends in but had conceded, if only to keep him quiet and relaxed. The two concerned friends barely managed to stay quiet long enough for Madame Pomfrey to return to her office. Surprisingly, it was Hermione that had broken first, running at him with arms wide open.

"Harry!"

She had barely stopped herself from falling onto the bed, arms moving from their wide-open position to catch herself against the railing. Harry winced slightly as the metal shook and creaked in protest at the sudden force. If the nurse had heard anything, she didn't come out.

"We were sure that you were going to– Dumbledore was so worried–"

"The whole school's talking about it," Ron provided. "Do you know what really happened?"

Harry shook his head and filled them in on the sparse details he could offer, though Ron was elated to hear the fighting in particular, while Hermione was enamored with the intricate alchemy. Once he had finished, they took turns telling him what had happened after he had been knocked out, from both second- and third-hand sources.

The raven-haired first year lay back in the bed, going over everything he had heard. There was one thing that lingered on his mind, though he doubted anyone would have an answer, even their teacher himself.

"How _did_ Ed know that Quirrel was trying to steal the Stone?" he mused. Hermione answered with a shrug.

"He was right about Snape not trying to steal the Stone; maybe he figured out when Quirrel was trying to steal it."

"Or he got lucky," Ron offered, unaware that he was far closer than any of them knew. "Hey, are you going to up and about for the end-of-year feast tomorrow?" Hermione rolled her eyes at the sudden change of topic to food, but didn't interrupt. "The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course– you missed the last Quidditch match and we were trampled by Ravenclaw without you, but the food will be good."

Madame Pomfrey came over, clearly having had enough of the two intruding students.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes. Now leave," she commanded.

* * *

The last four days were spent without notice or care from Ed. He was confused, unsure if he should hate his father or forgive him. He was not much to forgive and forget by any means, but there was somewhere one could start, right? And it wasn't exactly as though he had been easy to find for the last... however long it had been since then. He'd lost track after the last calendar change, and hadn't bothered to figure it out since then.

Something he quickly learned was that word had the tendency to get around the school. Students stared as he passed, and he didn't get why. He hadn't changed in the past week on a public basis; it was only how he felt about his father that had changed, and even that was foggy. Glaring, as usual, did its job and managed to hold the curious at bay.

It was the last day of term when Harry, Ron and Hermione brought themselves to visit.

Ed was sitting on his desk, idly twirling a pen in his hands, with his feet propped up on his trunk. He was facing the window, watching the outdoors. Admittedly, there wasn't much going on, but he wasn't looking for the view. He was too busy thinking, and had time for it since he took care of packing the night before. The sound of the door opening and closing, and someone walking into a bag by the door failed to catch his attention. He forced himself out of his reverie when he heard his name being called.

"...that we didn't believe you," Harry was finishing.

"Huh?"

"About Snape, I said I was sorry about not believing you at first." The blond absently nodded and returned his gaze back to the window.

"So," Ron began, "where'd you learn to fight like that? We heard from someone that you fought hand-to-hand with Quirrel. Well, more like spear-to-wand, alchemy, but still." Ed looked at Ron and he reddened, eyes flickering guiltily to Harry.

"How long had you been zere, Harry?"

The raven haired boy winced and sheepishly admitted, "Enough to see you fight."

"Oh." He brought his attention to the pen in his hand, twisting it between his fingers. He just wanted the conversation to be over, so he could mull over things in peace. "I learned vrom my Teacher. Sche taught me a lot ov zings."

The conversation lulled again and the boys began making hasty excuses to leave, uncomfortable with the odd atmosphere.

"Ed?" He looked at Hermione, who handed him a book. "Professor McGonagall asked me to give you this. She said it was a present, for your completing your first year of teaching here without killing anyone."

The first year waved good bye and Ed returned the gesture before looking down at the cover, which read _Lycanthropy: Blood and Magic_ by Mac Lupinski. He opened it up to the title page, and saw the inside cover was signed by his colleague. _Have a good summer, Edward. Thought you might like a project to keep you busy. 6/23/91. _Ed snapped it shut with conviction, picked up his trunk and Disapparated. He reappeared at the Hogsmeade station in a crowd of students, where no one noticed his sudden appearance. He moved over to the train, loaded his things into one of the carriages and began to read once the trunk was packed away. The book at least provided a distraction from his thoughts, and kept him engrossed enough that he didn't notice his visitors until one of them yelled.

"Ed!" Ron was shouting, his trunk lying forgotten on the floor. "We didn't expect to see you here!" The blond marked his page before looking up and smiling at the over-enthusiastic Weasley.

"I vill be schtayink in London vor zee summer," he said.

"So you're going to teach at Hogwarts next year?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Vell, I never resigned, so I zink Dumbledore vill take zat as a yes." Ron and Hermione grinned but Harry looked out the window, a little lost in thought. "Somezink wrong, Harry?" The raven haired boy blinked once, disoriented.

"Wha– No, no I'm fine. I'm just a little sad, is all. I'm going back to my uncle's for the summer," he explained.

"Zey don't know zat you can't do underage magic, do zey?" Ed asked with a spark in his eye. Harry, understanding what the alchemist was getting at, grinned while Hermione looked horrified.

"That's illegal Ed! Don't be giving Harry any ideas!"

"You've never met zem bevore. Zey could be nicer to him once in a vile. And I'm not tellink him to actually use any magic, only scare zem."

The brunette shook her head as Ed returned to his book while Ron and Harry began a game of Exploding Snap. In ten minutes, Ed joined in, having finished his book, which left him buzzing with ideas. Maybe the werewolves were not as doomed as people thought. He would have to thank Minerva when he saw her.

The train seemed to stop too early, but when he looked outside, the sky was in fact creeping to twilight. He pulled his trunk off the rack, wincing as it clattered against the seat and almost hit Hermione. He apologized to her, got her things down as well and looked at the three of them.

"You vill schtill be in school next year?"

As one, they smiled and promised to be there next year. Ed got off the train with them, but watched from his position by the tracks as they stepped off the platform and back into Muggle London before he followed himself. By the time he had gotten out there, all three of the, had disappeared. He stepped outside, still dragging his trunk with him. A glance up at the sky showed it to be surprisingly clear, instead of the smoggy, smoky gray haze the city was infamous for. The Amestrian smiled to himself before setting off. Things were definitely interesting, now, and if the Homunculi were back, they had new enemies to face and stronger, if older, ones as well.

* * *

_End of Arc One: Hope_


	13. Arc Two: Envy

**Warning: Weak violence.**

* * *

**Beginning Of Arc Two: Envy**

Envy – noun, verb (used with object, used without object); (noun) 1, a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regards to another's advantages, successes, possessions, etc.; 2, an object of envious feeling, something that causes envy; 3, (_Obsolete)_ ill will; (verb, used with object) 1, to regard with envy; 2, to be envious of; (verb, used without object) _(Obsolete)_ to be affected or afflicted with envy

Note: Not to be confused with jealousy. Jealousy is the feeling of resentment towards a person. Envy is the coveting or resentment towards the immaterial aspects or achievements another receives or already possesses.

* * *

"_The wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring."_

–_Victor Hugo_

* * *

No, he didn't suppose he would ever get used to such a change, no matter the fact that it had been years, maybe decades since it had occurred. The difference was astounding; half of him felt constricted, the other half liberating. It was confounding that he could feel such opposites at the same time. The constriction was because this body was limited in ways he wasn't before, but liberating because it was so much lighter and gave him a greater range of abilities, ones that made up for whatever he had lost. _Yes_, he thought,_ most definitely liberating._

And the crazed wizard thought he was in charge, that crazy old coot. There was a reason that the old man was headmaster, and _he _was a governor of the school. Nope, he was the one pulling the strings now rather than being jerked around by the puppeteer. _He _was the one pulling the strings now, subtly, and ever so carefully. The others were still getting in place, but there would be time enough. Right now, however, he had his own part to play, one that was more important than the others' right now.

Lucius Malfoy spotted the Weasley family hanging around Borgin and Burkes and felt his soul shudder in rage at the sight of them. He had some difficulty restraining himself, but Draco proved to be a marvelous distraction from the overwhelming fury through his taunting the Boy Who Lived. He didn't care what the boy did; he was just another part of the game. Lucius leaned on his walking stick ever so slightly, using his other hand to check on the parcel hidden in his cloak as Draco traded insults with the blood traitors and the Mudblood. The head of the Weasley family came over and it was the perfect time to implement his plan.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Arthur Weasley," Lucius smoothly said, voice like oil. The hand not keeping his walking stick came to rest on Draco's shoulder and a sneer was allowed to settle on his face. It was easy; he'd had years of practice, after all.

"Lucius," was the cold, calculated, one-worded reply.

"Busy time at the Ministry lately, hasn't it. With all of those raids happening, I hope they're paying you overtime." His hand came off his son's shoulder and plucked a battered magic book out of the redheaded spawn's cauldron, inspecting it with a shrewd merchant's eye. "Obviously not," he commented, eyes drifting back over to the two Muggles. They were clearly the Mudblood's parents. "The company you keep," Lucius said, shaking his head in mock despair. "I thought your family could sink no lower."

Suddenly, though not to the pale haired man, Arthur charged forward, sending his daughter's cauldron flying into the street where it slowly spun to a stop. A bookshelf bit into Lucius' back as the redheaded man tackled him; he had to restrain himself from fighting back as books rained down from above, one biting into his eye before landing on the floor. He swung a fist at Arthur, barely grazing his face. The swing had been more for show; he had missed on purpose as it would be too suspicious if the wizard had been damaged too badly. In the quick second that had been gained by the strike, Lucius forced the parcel in his cloak into the damaged magic book he had managed to keep a hold on. A large man yelled something at them and pulled the two of them out of the mess.

"Here girl, take your book. It's the best your father can give you," Lucius spat with malice at the eleven-year old.

He forced himself out of the giant's grip, startling him slightly with his strength and found Draco holding up his walking stick for him. Lucius took it without a word, giving the assembled crowd one last malice-soaked look of contempt before sweeping out of the building. A crackle of red light batted at his face but he ignored it; once the flash was gone, the black eye that had been forming disappeared as well.

Step one complete. Step two, wait. Oh, how he hated waiting. It was only a few months' time, so it would be better than the waiting he's had to do so far. And there was a little more that would have to be done before the others would be ready, until all seven of them would be back.

* * *

_He wasn't doing this for money or for power. He was doing it for his girl, to keep her safe. His sweet, sweet Narcissa, the quintessence of perfection. She was too good for him, but she still believed it was the opposite. But despite her thoughts on the matter, they were both signing up for this. Each for the other's safety. Lucius smiled at his sweet-heart, who nervously smiled back. They both stepped together into the room, where they were immediately greeted by a familiar face. Narcissa's father looked down at them and silently admitted them entrance._

_Lucius could have sworn he heard the man whisper, "Keep my daughter safe," but when he looked back the other man was gone._

_He tightened his grip on Narcissa's hand and she squeezed back. They entered the manor together, fully aware that this was something they would never be able to turn back from. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater._

* * *

Ed studiously ignored the other in the room, instead focusing on the paper in his hands. It had been silent for the past five minutes save for a crinkle as he fisted the scrap sheet, smoothed it out again only to crumple it up once more. Hohenheim watched on, an amused air coming off him. It had been years since they'd had the chance to sit down and talk like a father and son should, but neither really knew what to say to the other. It had been far longer than it had since Hohenheim left his two young sons in Resembool, and Ed was by no means as naïve as he had been then; not that he had been for long after, of course.

But now that they were on speaking terms, neither knew what to say to the other. Hohenheim did not particularly fear his son's wrath, but he had proven the ability to hold a grudge for a long, _long_ time, and the elder had no wish to alienate Ed again, so he held his tongue.

Ed, on the other hand, simply didn't know _what _to say. There was little that the two of them had in common, could be spoken on even ground and wouldn't dredge up unwelcome memories, whether of the pleasing or terrible sort. Truly, he wanted to ask '_Where have you been?_' but avoided it because it would cycle back to the beginning, back when he had left the second time. So he was left with nothing to break the terse silence, nothing but the paper he held. It proved a wonderful distraction, and kept his mind off the pressing matters at hand for a short time.

"Edward," Hohenheim said, making the paper stop halfway through another crease. "How has teaching been?"

The younger looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected that kind of question; actually, he wasn't sure what to expect. But this, at least, proved to be a neutral subject, so he launched into detail about the classes he held, who had done the best and what he was planning for the upcoming years. But the conversation ground to a halt again, Ed holding his hands in the air mid-gesture. He slowly lowered his arms, hands resting on his knees. His left knee and right hand were cold through his pants, as he had taken off his gloves since Hohenheim already knew about the missing limbs.

"Vat exactly is zee Sorcerer's Stone?" Hohenheim let one hand rest against the back of his head as he thought.

"Well, I told you before, it's made with magic. I can't go into detail about it, but a Sorcerer's Stone is magic that is pressurized into a physical form... There's some alkahestry involved as well, but that's mostly the magic extraction. What?" Ed had been looking at him with exasperation.

"Vyy can't you say anyzink else about it?"

"Wizards take their promises very seriously."

"How serious?"

"Bond-and-kill-you-with-their-magic serious. If you break the oath then you'd be killed."

"Huh," Ed intoned thoughtfully. "I vonder how evvective zat vould be on you."

"Probably not very much," Hohenheim admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I'd rather not be killed over some wizards' secrets. Far too much trouble than it's worth."

Ed barked out a laugh at that, entirely in agreement. He let his face fall into a lax smile, simply enjoying the now friendly atmosphere. Perhaps getting along with his father wouldn't be so hard after all. Maybe he could be forgiven, one day. One day, but that day was not today.

Hohenheim noticed the forlorn expression and scratched the back of his head. He wasn't exactly thawing the ice between them, but he was definitely chipping away at it. Given more time, and perhaps they could be more... Well, not like father and son, but more friendly towards each other. More friendly on Ed's part, hopefully.

"Vyy aren't vee dead yet?" Ed raised an arm around him in an expansive gesture. "Zere vere only so many souls in Vazer's Philosopher's Schtone, and so many in yours. Zere is no vay vee schould be alive."

"Ed, do you know exactly when alchemy fell out of favor?"

"In vich calendar? Zere's hundreds ov zem."

"The Amestrian version." Ed shook his head and rested his palm in his hand, elbow on his knee. This would be interesting, at the very least. "Well, when we met up with each other again in Amestris, there were several hundred souls in the Stone Father had put in you." Ed nodded in agreement; he had already known this. "That would have lasted you roughly five hundred years if you weren't seriously injured too often.

"After a century, give or take a few years, magic as a practice began to form. It was a branching off the mixing of alchemy and alkahestry, and more people had the aptitude for spell casting than they did for the complexities of either of its parent branches. The greater availability and more elementary learning led to both the rise of magic and the falling of alchemy.

"But back to the energy. Alchemy and alkahestry consumed all the energy given to the array, only releasing whatever would naturally be given off. Like heat off a fire, for example. Magic, on the other hand, doesn't use all the energy it's given. Instead, about a quarter of the energy given to a spell is released as heat and light. Exposure to such energy, which can persist for an extremely lengthy amount of time, can lead to a Philosopher's Stone adapting itself to absorb the energy and burn it off, conserving the souls it has stored.

"In layman's terms, the Stone inside you has essentially been feeding off the excess energy the faculty at the school have been releasing and all the energy you have come into contact with since magic had come into greater use."

As was expected, Ed was completely disgusted with the knowledge.

"Great, I'm a leech." Not for the first time, he wanted to rip the Stone right out of his chest and smash it to pieces. But if he could, he would. "But vat about you? Zere veren't enough souls in your Schtone to lascht anozer year."

"Unfortunately," Hohenheim sighed, "when Father was defeated, I accidentally took in his Philosopher's Stone."

"I zought zee souls escaped."

"As did I, but they were attracted to the Stone inside of me. Birds of a feather, as they say. And without their bodies, there was nowhere for the souls to go. Their bodies hadn't truly died, and neither had they. But there were enough souls that I lived up to the birth of magic, and then its history."

"Zis is a curse, no? Seems ve're doomed to live like zis, or at least indevinitely. It is a good zing sat I don't believe in God or Vate."

* * *

"_Lucius," the icy voice spoke. A pale haired man stepped forward as the others assembled were dismissed. He was very nervous, being with the Dark Lord by himself, but he had been singled out for a special purpose, he knew it. "Would you like the chance to become something greater?"_

"_Greater, my Lord?"_

"_Yes, Lucius, something more powerful than a mere human or a wizard, as powerful as we are over Muggles. Something almost as powerful as I." Lucius cocked his head but remained silent. "My colleague has deemed you worthy of his power, but you must be willing to receive it."_

"_Yes, my Lord. If you believe I am worthy, then I shall accept." There was a moment of silence as the passive sentence was mused over, carefully plucked apart and strung back together to search fro new patterns._

"_We shall see, Lucius."_

_He beckoned the Death Eater closer, who quickly complied. He held his hand up and instructed the man to hold his hands out. A dark red stone was pressed into his palms, leaving a crimson shadow against his palms where the light shined through the material._

"_Eat it."_

_Without a moment's hesitation the rock was downed. It burned through his body, all the way down into his stomach, where it felt as though it was tearing holes into the soft organ. Lucius fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, where the pain was strongest. He could barely think through the haze, and the only thought that passed was that he was showing weakness before the Dark Lord. In moments he passed out, the red-streaked darkness overtaking him._

* * *

_ Next chapter: Exposition_

_ Special thanks to Pokeshadow for beta-ing. I'm back! And with a new arc! I'll have to warn you all right now that swearing will be commonplace in later chapters. That's all for now. _


	14. Exposition

**Edit: Fixed car name, thanks to The OMG Cat.**

A/N: Thanks to Pokeshadow55 for beta-ing. Thanks to: The OMG Cat, demonic fate616, Mcat9905, AquilineFeline, Guest, Takei Daloui, APH1168kittens, Morte Cacciatore, Four Leafed Fortune, BlueRoseRabbit, and DulcieTheCat for reviewing.

Beta-ed by Pokehshadow55.

**Warning: Sharp objects.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Exposition**

Exposition – noun; 1, a large scale exhibition or show, as of art or manufactured products; 2, the act of expounding, setting forth, or explaining; 3, writing or speech primarily intended to convey information or to explain; 4, the act of presenting to view; 5, exposure (see def. 10); 6, the state of being uncovered, revealed or otherwise; 7, _(Music) _the first section of a fugue or a sonata form, in which the principal themes are normally introduced; 8, _(in a play, novel, etc.)_ dialogue or description that gives the reader or reader the background of the characters and the present situation

* * *

"_Where questions of style and exposition are concerned I try to follow a simple maxim: if you can't say it clearly you don't understand it yourself."_

–_John Searle_

* * *

Ed held the paper up bemusedly. It was a special edition of the _Daily Prophet_, with the blaring title 'Ford Anglia Mystifies Muggles'. He had to give props to the journalist that wrote the article; they had chosen their words well. It outlined the appearance of a flying car that had been spotted in several towns and villages, totaling up to seven non-magical eyewitnesses. He lay the paper back down onto the table and looked to the left, where Snape was sitting with a rather smug smirk on his face, suggesting he knew exactly who had been responsible for a flying Ford Anglia.

"And zis concerns me... Vyy?"

"You and I both know who was in that car, Edward."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Some drunken vizard zat zought he vas a vairy. I don't know, Severus. Can you give me a hint?"

The pleased expression was quickly lost and replaced with exasperation. Ed suspected that if the Potions master had any less self-control, his face would have met the table. As it was, he had to settle for an eye roll sent in his general direction. The blond snickered at his colleague's annoyance but hid it by clicking his cutlery together, smiling innocently when the other glared at him. The banter between them kept him on his toes, at the very least. A glance at the doors showed the students were coming into the hall.

"How has your summer been?" Ed nonchalantly asked. "Must've been borink vizout any schtudents to torture."

"I believe I should be asking you that," Snape countered. "My summer was fine, without any children to bother me."

"Vell I moschtly read. Got some zings taken care ov." Ed picked up his knife and remembered something. "Severus, have you ever seen someone catch a knive out ov zee air vizout cheatink?"

"No, I don't believe I have. And what do you mean, 'cheating'?"

"You know, vizout magic or usink a vake knive or any ov zat. Don't blink."

With a flick of his wrist, Ed sent his knife flipping into the air above. It spun from blade to handle, staying perpendicular to the table as it soared. Ed reached a hand out –his right, just in case he miscounted– and tightened his fingers. The hilt had landed in his hand, the point of the blade standing in the air, glinting in the candlelight. He set the knife down by his left side of his plate.

"A good trick, no?" He looked at the other teacher and outright laughed at the blank shock on his face. There was the sound of applause and Ed looked back to the students, most of who were clapping. He stood, gave a bow and sat back down before saying, "You vizards need to get out more. Zat's a vairly common zing to see, iv you look at all zee ozer zings people can do viz blades. Zere's sword svallowink, vor example–"

"Edward, I suggest you close your mouth now before I lose my appetite," Severus warned.

The blond shook his head in amusement, still chuckling. He was still smiling when Hermione came into the hall but when he noticed her distress, the smile quickly became concern. He craned his neck, trying to see the Gryffindor table but gave up and moved over to Dumbledore, leaning down by the wizard's ear.

"I'm goink to take a valk outside," he said. "It vould seem zere are some schtudents missink."

He saw Dumbledore cast his eyes over the hall and nod in approval. Ed walked by the side of the Great Hall, between the wall and the Slytherin table. He was admittedly tempted to do something to Malfoy when he passed by but refrained from doing so. It wasn't the time or the place to do such a thing. The entrance hall, once he had left the larger room, was still well lit in anticipation of the new students. The lighting outside, by contrast, was dim under the pale stars.

Ed squinted and grumbled at the darkness and jogged out onto the stairs that led up to the castle. There was the edge of the lake, the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's hut, the Whomping Willow, a flying car, Hogsmeade way out in the distance...

Flying car?

A wobbling Ford Anglia was cutting through the air, unsteady in its flight as it zoomed overhead. The car suddenly nosedived with a booming splutter, cut a sharp turn by the castle wall, scratching the stone and straightening ever so slightly as the air caught underneath its treads. It passed over the vegetable patch and Hagrid's hut, narrowly missed the greenhouses where Pomona taught Herbology, and crashed straight into a very angry tree with a crunch and a bang.

The Whomping Willow, aptly named for its outstanding ability to whomp any and all offenders, worsened by a characteristic oil-match temper. Sometimes, Ed mused that if people could be reborn as trees, he would be a Whomping Willow. Still, it didn't stop him from flinching slightly as the tree went to work beating the living daylights out of the car. He could only stand by as the tree whaled at the car. It was an endangered species and he didn't even know if there _was _anyone inside. Plus the plant was immune to numerous spells, unfortunately including those of the Freezing variety. The car at least had some sense; after taking a few fender-crushing hits, it reversed itself out of the tree and into the air, towards the Forbidden Forest. The Whomping Willow didn't take kindly to its retreat and tried to reach after it, nearly pulling itself out of the ground and exposing many of its roots. It gave up before it toppled over and fell back onto the earth with an earth-shaking _thump_.

And over by the tree line, the Anglia apparently had had enough. Its doors sprang open, forcefully ejecting two human passengers and an owl cage which sprung open, its inhabitant flying away with a derisive screech. The cage was abandoned with the luggage, all falling to the ground as the car closed itself up again and growled away to the Forbidden Forest. One of the passengers was yelling something to it, clearly upset. Forcing himself out of his stupor, Ed ran forward as the two got their things together.

"Ed!" one of them yelled.

His wand came out of his sleeve with a familiarity he didn't like and the end lit itself, illuminating the two late-night visitors.

"Am I zat bad ov an invluence on you?" the blond asked himself. Standing before him was a bedraggled Harry and Ron, both looking beat up from their close call with the Whomping Willow. "Let's get you inside. Zen you can tell me vyy you zought it vas a good idea to beat up a tree."

"It wasn't our fault!" Ron protested.

Ed chuckled and led the way back to the castle, extinguishing his wand once the bright light of the entrance hall enveloped him. He told them to leave their things in the hall and to follow him. He led the way up the marble stairs and down a number of familiar halls and corridors until he was pushing open the door to his classroom. After making the two sit down, he picked up and speedily read a note that was left on his desk. He nodded in appreciation, lit a fire in the still-standing fireplace, and threw the spent match and the note into the flames.

The wand was used again, though this time, he conjured a platter of sandwiches, silently thanking the house-elves for their insight. One had written and left the note for him in case he missed the feast, informing him that there was some food they had prepared in case he was hungry. He would be sure to go down there later and thank them personally. As the two boys dug into the food, Ed dragged his chair from around his desk and sat down, watching them intently.

"Tell me vat happened."

Ed rested his chin in one hand as the two boys took turns explaining what had happened. How the barrier at King's Cross had closed itself up. How they had borrowed a flying car that was in the parking lot. How they followed the train to the school for almost ten hours straight. How the car had begun to fail when they approached the school. How they had accidentally landed on the angriest tree in the world.

He held up a hand, interrupting Ron's graphic description of how the Whomping Willow had beaten up the car, saying, "You landed on an endangered tree. You have grievously hurt its veelings."

"It _wasn't_ our fault!" Ron yelled again. "The car was tired and we landed in a crazy tree! It started beating us up, not the other way around!"

"Harry, you have an owl." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. "I told you lascht year zat Hedvig vill be able to vind me. Vyy didn't you send a letter and tell me zat you vere locked ovv zee platvorm?" The second year's mouth fell and a moment later, his head followed in shame. "It is too late now to change zings. Iv it vere up to me, you vouldn't be expelled, but zat is Provessor McGonagall's choice."

As though on cue, the door opened and said teacher entered the classroom with the Headmaster only a step behind. Her eyes were smoldering with fury, while the elderly man looked disappointed. It would seem Dumbledore had the right idea; disappointment was a greater tool of inspiring guilt than anger was.

"Good timing, Minerva. I vas about to get you myselv. Sandvich?"

The Transfiguration teacher gave him an odd look like the offer was completely unexpected. Come now, he could be a good host! ...When he wanted to be. Regardless, Minerva returned her attention to the two students and spoke two words.

"Explain yourselves."

Ed settled down with a sandwich of his own as they went through the explanation a second time, not wavering once in their details. He suspected that someone they knew had enchanted the car, but he had no proof of that, not that he even cared. He already knew that it was Ron that drove, seeing as how the chances of Harry knowing how to drive a car were non-existent. It was more or less the theory behind the car's flight that interested him, how a car could generate enough lift to propel itself into the air on magical energy alone. Or maybe it could convert other forms of energy. Solar or heat, perhaps; wait, not heat, then it would make the surrounding area cold once the enchantment was activated. That would be inconvenient. Yes, solar sounded like the answer.

Taking another sandwich off the plate, Ed let his mind drift off to other matters. Lycanthropy, for example. He had been studying it as well as he could after Minerva had given him the book last summer, and he had found some interesting connections between it and magic.

As it turned out, there were multiple forms of lycanthropy, were being the key term. Nowadays, only the current form existed, in the form of an uncontrollable blood disease. Those afflicted couldn't control their minds or bodies once in beast form, and held no recollection of whatever transpired in that time.

It was widely accepted by Healers, the magical community's form of doctors, that lycanthropy was magic-related and could be passed through saliva-to-blood or blood-to-blood contact with a werewolf, and not by physical contact or by being in a werewolf's presence, as was the common rumour. As of yet, there was no cure for the disease in this form, though there were antidotes for temporary curses that had died out long ago.

The problem, as Ed decided was the lack of science. A microscope could be efficient enough to find any obvious changes in the blood's shape, or find any foreign substances, like viruses that may cause the disease. Or, if it wasn't that, there was the chance that it was caused by an influx of magic from the moon that affected those receptive to it, similar to the way UV rays caused skin cancer. Well, if that was the case, then it _would_ actually be UV rays that caused the lycanthropy, albeit ones tainted with magic. How that worked, Ed wasn't sure, but he supposed it was theoretically possible.

At some point Dumbledore offered to accompany him back to the feast but Ed refused, preferring to stay in his office. The old man reluctantly left then, with a warning to the two boys, and took the stern Gryffindor with him instead. It was late enough that, if Ed did go back to the feast, they were likely serving the flavored cow juice at that point. He didn't want any, so why go? The only upside he could see for going would be to bother Severus, but that wouldn't have lasted long enough for his liking. So, the three were left to eat to their heart's content, the younger two being put off by their teacher's voracious appetite.

* * *

_He grinned behind his mask, reveling in the slaughter. Man, woman, child– it didn't matter. It was all the blood and the adrenaline, baby. They brought you up higher than any addict could go, and never let you crash. The wands were troublesome, as were their wielders, but they could be taken care of easily._

"_Expelliarmus!" he shouted, the silver light banishing his targets of their weapons and gifting him with them._

_His expression became sadistic as he snapped the wood in half with a splintering crack and discarded the pieces behind him. With a burst of scarlet light and a loud scream, the magic-users were dead, save for him. His right side was drenched in crimson. He didn't know exactly where this maniacal part of himself came from, but he didn't care. It was just too much fun now to slaughter those puny humans before him for him to give it much more than a passing thought while on the battlefield. Later, he would question it again and again while lying in bed as Narcissa slept, peacefully unaware of his inner turmoil._

_Right now, however, the demon reigned, and it called for blood._

* * *

_Next chapter: Assess_

_The knife scene is dedicated to Takei Daloui and InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment. Do not fear; there is more to come!_

_The OMG Cat: Well I hope it lasts, and that you remain amused with this._

_Guest: Well, that's a pretty good question. Sadly that's a no. When a spell is cast, depending on the spell, it releases different forms of energy. Take the Killing Curse for example: heat, light, and for the sake of the argument, electricity. The jet of light is the curse itself, and when it hits, destroys the nerves and kills the person instantly. Most of the 'magic' is turned into other forms of energy, with a small amount being released without conversion. That small bit is what the Stone would absorb. Again, that's a good point you made.  
_


	15. Assess

**Edit: Fixed sodium hydroxide's formula (thank you, Bibliomaniac, for pointing that out.)**** Removed extra line (with thanks to DulcieTheCat.)**

A/N: Wow, I'm dense. I've been with this site for over a year and didn't notice XD. On a completely unrelated note, I apologize for any unintentional scarring that may have occurred due to Ed's thoughts about the Whomping Willow. Thanks go out to: Raley, Summer's Vice, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, APH1168kittens, kimcat, TartKiwiFruit, EasilyDistractedBookWorm, FourLeafedFortune, Kurama's Foxy Rose, Kiri Kaitou Clover.

**Warning: Chemicals. Slight foul language.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Assess**

Assess – verb (used with object); to estimate officially the value of (property, income, etc.) as a basis for taxation; 2, to fix or determine the value of (damages, a tax, a fine, etc.); 3, to impose a tax or other charge on; 4, to estimate or judge the value, character, etc., of

Note: This word should not be misread as a plural noun.

* * *

"_I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage."_

–_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

Ed wished he could punch his 'friend' in the face. Hard. With his right arm. Gilderoy Lockhart had decided some time the night before or shortly after he woke up that he wanted to bother one of his colleagues, or more specifically, the Alchemy teacher. The twit was blathering away about his achievements, 'And have you heard about the Wagga Wagga Werewolf?' while Ed was swiftly losing both his patience and his self-restraint. The guy knew how to push buttons, and that was about all he was good for. Why didn't Dumbledore send him to Voldemort during the Wizarding War? Lockhart would've driven him up the wall and straight off a cliff. The alchemist allowed himself a faint smile at the thought and managed to lose the other man in the crowd of students entering the Great Hall.

Lost among the talking, he could hear that the majority of students were reminiscing over last night. How exactly the word had gotten out that Ron and Harry were the ones with the car, he wasn't sure, but people already knew. He shrugged and sat down at the staff table, smiling ruefully as Flitwick got saddled with Lockhart, the latter bumbling on about some Transfiguration spell he knew, not even aware that his colleague was the Charms teacher.

A sudden commotion at the Gryffindor table made the entire Great Hall fall silent. Even Lockhart had the sense to quiet down. Slowly, carefully, Ed could see Ron lifting a red, smoking envelope off the table. It promptly exploded with sound and Ed ducked, half-expecting something trying to kill him.

"–STEALING THE CAR, I _WOULD'NT_ BE SURPRISED IF YOU WERE EXPELLED–"

As soon as Ed realized the note had nothing to do with him, and the following roar of sound, he stopped listening as best as he was able and tried to finish his breakfast. Granted, it was difficult when it sounded like someone with a megaphone was screeching in one's ear, but he somehow managed to down everything as the note burst into flames. There was some nervous laughter and talk broke out over the hall again. The teacher glanced over at the two second years and decided that, despite Ron having sunk in his seat so he couldn't be seen, they would be fine.

* * *

The first interesting class of the day was that with the new first years; as he had done before, the class was begun with a demonstration. Although, this time around, it was a little more _explosive_.

"And zat is vyy you schould not look too closely at burnink sodium," the alchemist said, blinking spots out of his eyes.

The block he had dropped into the water was a tad too large and had burst into flames on contact with the bucket of water he had on top of one of the desks. Needless to say, he was regretting it at the moment, having blinded himself and roughly half his class.

"Right zen," he said, attempting to look past the persistent colour spots in his vision, "once zee sodium has reacted viz zee vater, zee H2O, it becomes sodium hydroxide, NaOH, vich dissolves into zee remainink vater, and releases hydrogen gas. Viz zee array I drew, I can recreate zee sodium."

Much like before, Ed placed his hands on the circle and activated, entrancing the class. A block of sodium began to form in a separate circle, one opposite the bucket. An oxide layer could already be seen forming on the surface as the transmutation finished.

"Due to sodium's high reactivity, zee pure element does not last long in air," Ed commented, holding the metal up and examining the tarnished surface. "Now, since zat is over, can anyone tell me vat zis means?" He placed the alkali metal back onto the desk and pointed to the board, where he had already written out the riddle for his class. As expected, no one raised their hands. Good. "You all have one mons to underschtand zee riddle. Anyone zat vails to do so vill be pulled out ov zee class, no exceptions. Zee rescht ov zee class may be used vor zat purpose."

The class settled itself into groups and pairs while the Amestrian watched over them all. Most of the rest of the time was uneventful, but several students came up and gave him incorrect answers to the riddle. It was amusing while it lasted, at the least.

* * *

Several hours after his first class of first years, and a later class of seventh years, Ed was wandering the grounds outside. Might as well take advantage of the good weather while it lasted, right? That's why he made the seventh years run on their first day back, and planned on making the other classes run as well, save for the first years. They'd get a month or so before he'd make them run as well. Voices carried over to where he was sitting and, curious, he headed to the source. Ed sighed when he saw Malfoy and the Golden Trio.

"Jealous?" Malfoy asked. "Of what? I don't want some foul scar across my head, thanks. I don't believe having some cut slashed open on your head makes anyone special."

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Ron growled angrily.

"I zink zat's enough, you two," Ed interrupted before things could get worse. "Malvoy, are you schtartink trouble already? Are you zat eager vor a detention?" He spotted Lockhart walking across the courtyard, towards them and Ed came up with a nasty idea. He snapped his fingers and Malfoy visibly paled. "I've got zee pervect idea. Vyy don't you spend dinner assistink Provessor Lockhart viz his fan letters? He receives many ov zem every day." His grin widened further and Malfoy shook his head.

"Zen I suggest you leave your classmates alone. Get to class."

The blond ran away, preferring to save his skin rather than be afforded a detention so early in the year, and with the biggest idiot of them all to boot. Ed turned back to the two second years and sighed.

"I can't keep savink you two like zis."

"Then don't," Harry offered. "We'll find our way out of it."

"Do you vant detention? I didn't zink so." He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, unsure of what to say next. "Go to class, I'll see you later today. And Ron? Schtop makink threats like zat, or I'll make _you_ help Lockhart."

"Ed? We've got Lockhart," Ron called out, quickly getting over the horror of being with Lockhart for an extended period of time.

The alchemist's fingers twitched as he recalled the one-sided conversation, if it could be called that, he had with Lockhart earlier that morning. And he was the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, as well. He'd do a better job of killing his students than he would do of teaching them. Suppressing another image courtesy of his imagination, which was by no means as pleasant as Lockhart driving the Dark Lord bonkers, Ed turned around to face the trio again.

"Zen I schould probably go viz you. Vor your own savety and zat ov zee class'."

Five minutes later and Ed was sitting in the corner of the room, twirling a pencil in his fingers as Lockhart began talking about how great he was and gave some examples of his 'achievements'. He made a joke, which actually wasn't so bad on his part, and gave out a forty question quiz on his books. Scratch that, it was bad again.

He took a copy for himself and looked at the questions given. They were ridiculous; not a single one had to do with the class. They were all about himself, like his favorite colors, his dreams, how he had defeated some creature or another. Nothing at all to do with the subject. It would seem that there was a great lack of sufficient teachers lately.

"_The Headmaster had also sent Remus an application for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he turned it down."_

Like a blast from the past, the snippet of that conversation Ed had had with Minerva a year ago came back to him. Dumbledore had offered Remus Lupin a teaching position, but had turned it down. Perhaps because he was a werewolf, but any teacher at all had to be better than Gilderoy Lockhart, the pompous, clueless git-of-an-author. Except maybe Quirrel, but he was on the same standing with Lockhart, so it wasn't like there was much competition for that spot.

It took another thirty minutes for everyone to finish testing and for Lockhart to collect all the papers. He quickly scanned them, making comments on some answers that had caught his eye.

"Some of you need to study Year With the Yeti more; I mentioned my favorite color is lilac. And in Wanderings with Werewolves, I clearly stated that in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples. Although, I wouldn't say no to a bottle of Ogded's Old Firewhiskey," he added with a roguish wink.

Ed felt himself gag and he had to turn away for a moment for air. Harry looked over at him in concern and he tried to shake his head, tell him that he was fine, but he caught sight of Hermione. She was staring at Lockhart with a look of deep concentration on her face and Ed groaned, closed his eyes, and turned back around so he could rest his forehead against the surface of the desk.

Wonderful. Hermione, the smartest girl in her grade, had fallen for an idiot who was at least twice her age and had all the intelligence of a rutabaga. Actually, no, that was wrong. A rutabaga was smarter than Lockhart and comparing their intelligence was an insult to all rutabagas, living, dead and eaten.

"Are you alright, Professor Elric?" he heard Lockhart ask, not sounding very concerned.

"Yes, I'm vine," he answered after a moment, lifting his head off the table so his voice wasn't muffled. "I'm juscht ponderink how idiots can get into teachink positions today. It seems to have happened razer recently."

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Ed let his head slam back down onto the desk and he heard one of the students snort in laughter.

"Something funny, Mister Finnegan?"

"No, nothing at all."

"Well alright then. Let's move on to business." A muffled clank came from somewhere near the front of the room and Ed looked up in curiosity. A fairly large bird cage was sitting on Lockhart's desk, a cloth covering the bars. One hand was atop the cloth, lightly gripping at it.

"Be warned," he said in a low, ominous tone. "It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind. You may find yourself facing your worst fears in this room, but know that no harm will befall you whilst I am here. All that I ask is that you remain calm. I must ask you not to scream. It may provoke them." With a dramatic flourish, the shroud was thrown off from the cage, revealing its occupants.

"Yes, freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Eight inches tall, bright electric blue, and with voices comparable to that of an angry bird, Cornish pixies were more of a nuisance than a threat, but could cause quite a bit of pandemonium in fair numbers. They could cause unintentional destruction and injuries, and were best left for experts or magical exterminators.

Finnegan snorted again and banged one fist against the desk, nearly hitting his things. Lockhart smiled at him, not put off in the slightest.

"Yes?"

"They're not dangerous!" he cried, laughing all the while. "They can't be!"

"Ah, ah, ah," Lockhart warned, wagging a finger. For once, Ed had to agree with him. "Devilish little blighters, they are. Let's see just what you can make of them."

The other teacher raised a hand to stop him but was a second too late. Lockhart flipped the cage door and the pixies zoomed out, getting into everything their tiny hands could touch. Two lifted Neville by the ears into the air and started swinging him around before leaving him on top of a chandelier Lockhart had hanging from the ceiling. For a moment, Ed absently wondered why there was a chandelier in there before seeing the rest of the havoc the miniature devils had caused.

Ink bottles were being thrown around, staining students and furniture alike, books and loose papers were shredded into confetti; pictures were on the floor, the wastebasket was tipped over, a window was smashed and bags were being thrown out the window. One of the pixies had found Lockhart and threw his wand out the window as well. All that had taken thirty seconds to perform.

Ed, now truly alarmed with the other teacher's incompetence, pulled his wand out just as Neville fell from the ceiling. Without thinking, he shouted, his wand pointed at the falling student.

"_Levicorpus!"_

Neville floated, an inch from the desks, where he would have painfully collided with the wood, before being placed down on the desktop. The blond growled and, with his free hand, drew a piece of chalk and scratched an array into the closest desk. One hand rested on top of the circle and, at first nothing happened. The pixies, which had been largely ignoring the alchemist, fell to the ground, writhing in silent pain until the hand was removed from the array.

The students, except Neville, had all been cowering underneath their desks or in their seats. The bell rang and those who found they could still move made a mad dash to the door, Lockhart included. He got by before Ed could stop him and chew him out for being an idiot. Instead he settled for putting the pixies back in the cage and locking it before melding the cage door into one sheet of metal.

"Ed, how'd you do that?" Hermione asked.

He turned around and found the Golden Trio standing by the door, watching him with something like awe. He hated that, so much. He didn't want to be praised, let alone _worshipped_, but now wasn't the time to gripe about it.

"Alchemy," he admitted. "You'll learn it in a vew years." The blond rubbed a hand on the desk the array was on, effectively obliterating the chalk signs and sigils. "Let's go, I can't be late vor my own class."  
"That's right!" Harry cried. "We've got to go–"

"You von't get a detention. You zree are in my class."

They made it to his classroom with time to spare, with most of the class already in their seats. The three second years sat down in some empty seats while Ed went over to the blackboard, writing down a set of instructions. After seeing what their teacher had done in Lockhart's room, they were eager to learn how to do it themselves. Those who weren't present were quickly filled in on what went down in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. When the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class, Ed set the chalk down onto the grille and turned around.

"Zis is your second year ov learnink alchemy," he began. "Lascht year, you learned how to pervorm alchemy and how to draw a basic array. Zis year, vee vill go into detail about changing zee matter's phase and about zee array. Zee symbols, zee lines; zee vorks. Zere vill schtill be a physical portion in zis class, so don't zink you'll be getting avay viz zat. Any questions bevore vee begin?"

No one raised their hands and Ed was satisfied. He picked up a stack of papers off his desk and dropped them onto the nearest student's desk with a dull _thud_.

"Zis has all zee invormation zat you vill need. Hand zem out, please." Once everyone had a pack of papers, he added, "You are to schtudy zee virst two pages vor homevork. Zey contain zee basic symbols zat vill be used in zee next vew veeks." He turned back to the board and pointed at the first line.

"In arrays, animals are included as symbols, and represent divverent chemical reactions zat occur. Zee Green Lion, vor example, signivies the greening ov a compound or element, such as copper or sulvuric acid. It can also represent vegetation, and in zis vorm, is most often shown to be eatink zee sun; zat represents photosynzesis, zee process by vich plants make vood.

"Symbols are amalgamations of instructions packed into vewer lines, to save room in zee array. Knowink vat symbol to use can mean zee difference betveen a success and a vailure." Here he pointed at the second line. "You schould use as vew symbols and lines as you can. Zee more complex zee array, zee more energy and time it takes to complete. So, vee vill begin by memorizink zee symbols used bevore movink on to zee lines drawn in zee array. Zee rescht ov zee period may be used for schtudyink." Hermione raised her hand, so Ed called on her.

"We won't be doing anything else today?"

"Unless you veel like runnink, no. Zere is not much zat can be done viz symbols until you've learned zem."

* * *

_Everything was calm. The calls for bloodshed were, tamed and sated by the massacre that had been wrought just days earlier. He had never been much for meditation, or any other act involving religion or a spiritual study, but it was necessary to calm himself enough to speak with the demon inside. The room was quiet, the silence reverberating against the walls. Not even Narcissa would enter, and she had warned ff the staff from entering when he was inside. She didn't know all the details, but enough to know that entering now would lead to disastrous consequences. Slowly but surely,__ his consciousness descended into the familiar red haze that was the demon's dwelling._

_It stood there, suspended in the wall-less and floorless space, looking out into the ever-moving red streak that made up its horizons. The demon could have been either gender, with its androgynous looks, and had long, green-tinted black hair that hung from its hair like that of palm leaves from the tree. For whatever reason, it preferred a black tube top and skort, hands usually finding themselves crossed against its chest or one on its hip in a feminine position._

"_You're back," it said, its voice leaning on the masculine despite the boredom present in its tone. "And what do you want this time?"_

"_Why all of this killing?" he asked._

"_Don't try to pin this on me," it dodged, throwing a grin over its shoulder. "You're the one that wants to kill. I just… magnify it."_

"_Don't play games with me," the wizard growled, temper flaring. "Just answer the question."_

"_I did. And why should I tell _you_, some insignificant, puny human? If I wanted to, I could've taken this body over a long, long time ago."_

"_And why not?" The demon shrugged and looked back out into the scarlet atmosphere._

"_You're still useful at the moment," it admitted. "Hiding, as boring as it is, is safer than starting a massacre. Especially with the world being more advanced than the last time I had the chance to kill._

"_All you need to know is that you have to kill people. Take their souls and we'll both be satisfied."_

"_Souls?"_

"_Yes, souls. Now get out of here."_

_Souls; that sounded like the terrible cliché of some no-name author wrote in their latest half-assed novel. But who was he to question the demon? Maybe it would tell him more if he complied._

* * *

_Next chapter: Awakening_


	16. Awakening

**Edit: 'Checl' to 'check', thanks to Kuroki-keropi. Slytherin fixed, thanks to Scaehime-KingofKing's Daughter.  
**

A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter in advance. Thanks to: The OMG Cat, DreamerRenuki, demonicfate616, Morte Cacciatore, DulcieTheCat, velvee, Four Leafed Fortune, Kurama's Foxy Rose, APH1168kittens.

**Warning: Slight language.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Awakening**

Awakening – adjective, noun; (adjective) 1, rousing or quickening; (noun) 2, the act of awakening from sleep; 3, a revival of interest or attention; 4, a recognition, realization, or coming into awareness of something; 5, a renewal of interest of something, especially religion

* * *

"_A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to slowly be born._

–_Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

* * *

Ed probably should have considered it odd that Minerva was seeking him out specifically, but didn't think much of it when he entered her crisp, orderly office Friday afternoon. He had finished teaching his first year class twenty minutes ago and had come across the Weasley twins, who were pranking another student. He wisely walked away as though nothing had happened while he was there. Thinking on it later, he should probably have skipped out on Minerva and given the twins detention. Or gone on a pranking spree with them. At least then she wouldn't be asking him something he couldn't do.

"You vant me to vatch over your schtudents at six in zee morning."

"Yes."

"In case somezink like lascht year occurs again."

"Yes."

"In zee rain and zee snow."

"Yes." A hint of amusement coloured her voice, but the blond was not happy at all.

"Wiz all due reschpect, Minerva, have you loscht your mind? Have all these years of teachink magic scrambled zose brains ov yours? Because I can't zink ov any ozer reason vyy zee _hell_ you vould vant someone zat _deschpises_ vlyink to vatch over your schtudents zat practice vlyink."

"There is no one that I would trust more, save Dumbledore, to watch over the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

Ed, who had been entirely prepared to explode into a full-out rant, hesitated. They had known each other for just barely over a year, and she trusted him that much? She could've been lying, but still...

Minerva jumped on his silence and said, "Since there seems to be no further argument, I expect that you will be at the field at six."

The alchemist groaned and held his head in his hands. He knew when he had been beaten and Minerva wasn't the kind of woman he could push very easily. It was better for everyone involved if he just lay off now, and tortured her later for it. Yes, that sounded wonderful. Maybe he could ask Fred or George for some help. Outside her office, where she couldn't hear him, Ed took the chance to practice his English vocabulary and began swearing Minerva six ways to Sunday, which was two days away. After Quidditch practice. If she cared so much, then why couldn't she watch over them, instead of sticking him with them?

It would seem that he would never know, seeing as how Ed was sitting in the stands the next morning at six o' clock sharp, a tall stack of toast sitting next to him. The air was chilly, the stands were cold and wet, and the dew in the grass was sparkling like a lightshow, trying to blind him. The only good thing was the toast, which was warm and delicious.

A half hour later and his bad mood had worsened. His automail ports had begun freezing up, leaving his shoulder and knee cramped, he was out of toast, and a first year Gryffindor was sitting next to him, unabashedly blathering on about Harry, on par with Lockhart twittering about himself. Alright, maybe he was exaggerating, but still!

He lightened slightly when he saw the team come out on to the field, decked out in their house-coloured robes. The sooner they were all finished training, the sooner he could be in the Great Hall, eating food and warming up. Sure, he had to go and write up tests for his classes, but that would be more fun than sitting out here in the cold. Things were even better when Ron and Hermione sat down next to him, the latter having the sense of mind to bring several mugs of something warm.

He thanked her for the drink and watched the two Beaters and the Seeker race each other in the air, the youngest winning due to his smaller stature and faster broom. The Gryffindor kid –Ed couldn't remember his name– started taking pictures and yelling out to the players. The eldest sighed in frustration and was a second away from telling the kid to quiet down before he heard yelling from the field. Without thinking, Ed rushed to the edge of the bleachers and vaulted down, much like he had the year before. He jogged to the center of the field, just in time to hear the Gryffindor captain yelling at some newcomers he hadn't noticed.

"–the field! I booked it!"

The other kid he was yelling at, a tall seventh year with emerald-green-and-silver robes and a sneer on his face, simply held out a piece of paper with words scrawled on it. Ed snatched it out of his hand, ignoring the other's outraged cry, and read the writing aloud.

"'I, Provessor Snape, give zee Slyzerin Quidditch team permission to use zee Quidditch vield to train zeir new Seeker.' It's legit, Vood."

"Who invited the shrimp?" the Slytherin captain yipped, annoyed that he had been one-upped.

That was the last straw for Ed. He had had enough of the abuse dished out to him by that time, and the seventh year was the unfortunate one to have finally crossed that line. Ed clenched his hands and glared heatedly at the taller.

"And voo do you _zink_ you are callink _schort_?" he growled. One hand fisted the collar of his robes and pulled the seventh year down to Ed's eye level, where the taller was met with a very angry teacher. "Carevul voo you insult, _blockhead_," he hissed, keeping his language in check. "You vouldn't vant to schpend zee rescht ov zee year in detention, vould you?"

He was hoping for a smart remark, anything that would give him an excuse for fighting on school grounds, with a student no less. But he was quickly disappointed, as the Slytherin wasn't that stupid. A submissive 'No sir,' was said, and he pushed the taller away from him, making the seventh year stumble on his robes. No one else spoke at first, afraid to spark the smoldering blonde's temper again.

"So, ah, who _is_ your new Seeker?" Wood said, desperate to keep the conversation away from what just happened. An unfortunately familiar blond head, which was not Edward's, made itself known then, coming forward from between the older students, who parted like a curtain for the second year.

"I am," Malfoy said, smugness radiating off him like stink off garbage. "And as celebration, my father bought the entire team new brooms. All Nimbus Two Thousand and One, which outstrips the Nimbus Two Thousand by an entire class."

For emphasis, he thrust his broom out and Ed could see the silver, looped lettering etched into the grain of the handle. The rest of the Slytherin team smirked at each other or at the Gryffindor team, the majority of whom were gaping in something between fury and shock.

"At least the Gryffindor team got on out of pure talent," Hermione mocked. "None of them needed to buy their way on."

The platinum blonde's smug look flickered for a moment, into something indecipherable, before being expertly plastered on again.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

There was an immediate roar of outrage: the Slytherin captain had to dive in front of the twins, who were trying to get to Malfoy with their Beater's bats, one of the girls shrieked at the second year, and Ron had pulled out his wand and shot a spell.

Everyone paused as the spell backfired and hit him in the stomach, leaving the redhead doubled over on the Quidditch field. Ed immediately moved over to him and held the boy up by his shoulders. The younger's face was a sickly shade of green, and the alchemist moved out of the way as Ron leaned over and retched onto the grass, slugs spilling from his mouth. The Slytherin team burst into laughter and Ed growled.

"Ten points from Gryvvindor, because you tried to hit Malvoy viz a schpell." The Gryffindors present looked at him in surprise.

"But he called her that– that _disgusting_ name!" one of the girls yelled.

"Zen ten points vrom Slyverin, vor insultink Hermione."

"But sir–"

"Zirty-two points!" he yelled, making most that were present flinch. "Does zat sound better? Hermione, could you clear zee vay?"

While the brunette pushed all the students out of the way, with Harry rushing to help, Ed slung one arm around Ron's shoulders and, crouching down, brought his other around the back of his knees. With one fluid motion, he pushed the back of the second year's knees and stood, lifting the redhead bridal style and carrying him off the field. Ron kept his head turned away from the teacher, who stopped whenever the student needed to bring up a few more invertebrates. With the others clearing the way, it only took a few minutes for Ed to bring the sick Weasley to Hagrid's, where Harry tugged them both into the bushes about twenty feet from the front door. The alchemist was ready to yell at Harry –Ron had landed on top of him– but then he heard Lockhart talking.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart's voice drifted over them. "If you need help, well you know where I am! I'll even let you have a copy of my book; I'm surprised you haven't already got one. I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!"

There was the sound of robes swooshing over the grass and, once it faded, Harry tugged Ron off of their teacher and helped him up. Ed sent the black-haired boy a weak glare and lifted Ron to his feet and helped him stumble the rest of the way to Hagrid's hut. Hermione was already knocking on the door and Hagrid came out, face dark until he saw the Gryffindor.

"I've bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me," he greeted, letting them come in. "Thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart again."

Ed eased Ron into a chair as the other two explained what had happened on the field. The gamekeeper wasn't at all disturbed by the news, instead cheerfully plunking a copper basin in front of the redhead.

"Better out than in, that's what I say."

Ed found his own seat and sat down, listening to Hermione mother over Ron as Harry questioned Hagrid about Lockhart. The latter proved to be more interesting when Hagrid threatened to eat his own kettle if Lockhart's achievements were actually true. Criticism, as Hagrid had proved well last year, was something he would never give of a teacher unless it was very much true.

"I think you're being a bit unfair," Hermione nervously commented, her voice a couple octaves higher than normal. "Professor Dumbledore must have thought he was the best man for the job, if he hired him." Hagrid snorted at that, swiping a dead rooster off the table and putting it on a chopping block by the fire.

"He was the on'y man fer the job." A plate of treacle fudge took the rooster's place on the table and Ron shook his head before leaning down and retching into the basin, the slugs plinking against the bottom. "An' I mean the on'y one. It's been getting' difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People are sayin' the position's jinxed, since no one's lasted fer a long while now. So, who were yeh tryin' ter curse, Ron?"

"Malvoy," Ed answered, as Ron dove back out from sight. A gagging sound accompanied his disappearance and the blond waited for the noise to cease before continuing. "He called her 'Mudblood', vatever zat means."

Hagrid slammed a fist onto the table in an unusual show of anger, asking, "He didn', did he?"

"He did," Ron confirmed, coming up again and resting an arm on the table. "It's an insulting name for someone who's Muggle-born, with non-magic parents," he explained for Ed's and Harry's benefit. "There are some wizards, like Malfoy's family, that think that they're better than everyone else 'cause they're what you would call pure-blood. I mean, the rest of us know it makes no difference at all." He covered his mouth as he coughed, but when no slugs made their presence known, he continued on. "Look at Neville Longbottom– he's a pure blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

Ed frowned at the mention of Neville but said nothing. He did have to agree with Ron that he wasn't very gifted in the spell-working or Potions departments of magic, but he had seen the kid's grades in Herbology. _That_ was something the boy was gifted in, seeing as how Pomona had been so proud she was flaunting the grades around the staff room last year. His alchemy grades weren't so bad, either, and he could run with greater ease than Ron could once they'd started the year before. Now they were nearly equal, but both were far ahead than when they'd started.

"An' they haven' invented a spell that Hermione can' do," Hagrid added. Hermione blushed and looked away at the compliment.

"But it's a disgusting thing to call someone. Dirty blood, common blood; it's ridiculous, since most wizards these days are half-bloods. If we hadn't married Muggles we would've died out."

"Probably not," Ed said with a shrug. The other four looked at him, confused. "Vell, iv zere are people zat can use magic vizout any magical background, like Hermione, zen zee ability to use magic is clearly not limited by blood. Zough, I am certain zat it helps."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, joining the conversation.

"It makes sense. Iv magic vas exclusive, zen zere vouldn't be any ov zis 'pure blood' nonsense." He crossed his arms for good measure, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'idiots'.

"Well there's somethin' I heard going around," Hagrid commented, now well used to Ed's eccentricity, "that you've been givin' out signed photos, Harry. Now how come I haven't got one?"

"I have _not_ been giving out signed photos," Harry said hotly. "If Lockhart's still spreading that around–" Hagrid interrupted his rant with loud, boisterous laughter.

"I'm on'y jokin'," the larger man reassured with a pat on Harry's back that sent him face-first into the tabletop. "I knew yeh hadn' really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need the; you're more famous than him without even tryin'."

"He didn't like zat, did he?" Ed asked, a Cheshire grin now stretched across his face.

"Not you too!" Hermione groaned.

"Yes, me too. Zee man is an idiot; look at vat happened on your virscht day ov class. He couldn't even handle a few dozen pixies. Ov course, you couldn't eizer, but zat vas to be expected. Don't give me zat look, you all know it's true," he added, seeing the looks the students were giving him. He spotted something through the window and winced, standing up quickly.

"I've got to go, bye," he hurriedly said, dashing out the door. He intercepted Minerva before she could get to Hagrid's hut and began speaking quickly, in low tones so those inside couldn't overhear.

"I am avare zat you asked me to vatch over your House's matches, but a schtudent's heals takes priority, Minerva."

"What?" She blinked owlishly at him before snapping out of whatever daze that had put her in. "A student was hurt? Why weren't they brought to the Hospital Wing?"

"Hagrid is closer, Poppy vould likely _not _vant slime everyvere, and it vas not serious enough to varrant a trip to zee Hoschpital Ving."

"But was still serious enough that you had to watch the student." Ed nodded and McGonagall continued, "So he's with Hagrid?"

"Yes, I zink zey vent around back to zee garden."

Laughter came out from behind the hut, followed by Hagrid yelling something about his pumpkins. When Ed looked to Minerva, she had a faint smile on her face. Without anything else, she gave a curt nod to her colleague and headed back to the castle to perform whatever duties she held accompanying her teaching position.

Moments later, as Ed had begun walking to the castle himself, he was accompanied by Hermione, who explained that the other two were cleaning up the slugs that Ron had brought up. The Gryffindor headed up to her common room to study while Ed went to the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

_Standing by his wife's side as she lay in the bed, pale with fatigue, but a smile still adorned her face. It didn't matter how she looked, to him, Narcissa was always beautiful. Lucius ignored the demon's disgusted noises that sounded in the back of his mind, instead allowing himself a moment of tenderness as he wiped his wife's forehead gently with the towel provided, cleaning the sweat from her skin and cooling her off at the same time. Wrapped securely in her arms was their son, born not more than six hours ago. The Healers had taken care of them both well, performing a marvelous job of alleviating Narcissa's pain and checking their son over as well as cleaning the mess that tended to occur with birth._

_And still, the demon cried for attention, bringing his worst fears back to the front of his mind. Since the creature had come, he hadn't been entirely himself. Lucius feared that his son would inherit some aspect of _that_ from him, and though he doubted it, the demon still taunted him with those incessant remarks and snide jabs._

_His fingers gripped the towel tightly and his other hand gripped the metal edge of the bed. He would do anything –_anything– _for the two of them, his wife and son. Even if he had to keep away from them or kill himself, so be it. He wouldn't let them come to harm. With that thought planted firmly in his thoughts, and the demon's words quieted in contemplative silence, Lucius returned to tending to Narcissa, still reveling in her beauty no matter how worse for wear she was._

* * *

_Next chapter: Advent_

_Thanks to Pokeshadow55 for beta-ing._

_The OMG Cat: I'm sorry for missing this before, it's my fault. And it is a Ford Anglia, also my fault._


	17. Advent

A/N: I felt guilty for the last chapter being short, so here's the next one, free of charge. Thanks to: APH1168kittens, Kuroki-keropi, MysteryRiddle, The OMG Cat, nightmare rose, Four Leafed Fortune, demonicfate616, Review4U, Guest, Kurama's Foxy Rose, AquilineFeline.

**Warning: Slight language.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Advent**

Advent – noun; a coming into place, view or being

Note: Religious definitions have been removed from this definition to avoid conflict.

* * *

"_A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense."_

–_Thomas Harrison_

* * *

October was rainy. The third of the month, a Saturday, was chillingly cold, so Ed spent the day indoors rather than out. Questions weren't raised as they were last year, as the day fell on Saturday, but many of the students had the mind to leave the brooding man alone. Even Minerva and Severus had let him be, one of the few unspoken things the two could agree on, despite Wood holding a practice session early that morning.

After one of the later sessions, near the end of the month, Ed was left outside in the stands. The first year hadn't come out, fearing for his camera's safety. Ron had been dragged by Hermione into the library for a test; certainly not his, since he had had all the classes slogging through the mud the past few classes. But the students went inside and Ed sat in the stands, just lying back with his head against the raised seats. Rain was falling on his face, making his eyes twitch every few seconds as another droplet hit them.

Then, with a sigh, he forced himself out of the stands and contemplated skipping the stairs entirely. It would be fun, but he could risk injury (usually not a problem) and get mud in his automail (definitely a problem). It would be more painful to slip on the stairs, but wood chips had never gotten stuck in the metal before. Must've been too large or something. He quickly descended and headed back to the castle, noticing a lack of students. Save for himself and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the members still likely in the locker room, everyone must have been inside the castle. Spots of mud flecked the entrance hall, the only sign that someone had passed through from outside.

Ed looked down at himself; save for his boots, which were caked with now-dried mud, he was clean. A loud crash startled him and, with nothing else to do (no papers to grade and lunch was several hours away) Ed went off to inspect whatever had been destroyed. And maybe congratulate them while he was at it. Filch had come barreling out of nowhere and was cursing Peeves loud enough that a mother would cover her child's ears, Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. Ed followed them, knowing that the caretaker would know exactly where the mess was. The old man spat at him distrustfully but allowed the alchemist to follow him, probably so he could fix whatever was broken. Down one hallway, turn, turn again, another hall, shortcut behind a tapestry...

In less time than it would have taken for Ed to lead them there, Filch had found a broken mess of wood and splinters. He twitched and descended into either howling laughter or madness, his mind possibly having snapped at last. The old man gripped one side, the other lifting a large shard of painted wood.

"That Vanishing Cabinet was priceless," he wheezed between breaths. Mrs. Norris sniffed at a leg piece and jumped back when he dropped the wood. "You're in for it now, Peeves."

He practically skipped back to wherever he came from, Mrs. Norris pausing only to stare at the teacher before following her master again. Ed blinked once in confusion at Filch's sudden change in demeanor before shaking his head; wizards were weird. Best to leave it at that. He crouched down and, after quickly checking the debris himself, clapped his hands together and placed them against the former cabinet. A flash of light later and a carefully painted red and black ornate cabinet stood again, in all of its former glory. Ed knocked on its side to check its stability and left. No need to get into the middle of the firefight, though it would be fun to watch.

Halloween night was always well overdone by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with the touch that only an expert could wield. The Headmaster seemed to believe that encouraging the stereotype was necessary and had the Great Hall decorated beyond belief. Giant pumpkins, grown and carved by Hagrid into giant jack o' lanterns were settled by the walls and pitch black windows. Bats were roosted on the ceiling, occasionally fluttering down in swarms to bombard the food placed out for them. Classic Halloween and fall related foods had controlled the tables, with more than enough pumpkin pie to go around.

Ed could agree that the food was the best part of the celebration. There were dishes of candies on each of the tables, but the house-elves went all out on the holidays, regardless of the number of occupants in the castle. Halloween seemed to be their favorite, and the feast they put out was no joke. It was so filling, in fact, that Ed had to leave the feast early. He also had the excuse of picking up a book he found in the library to ask Severus about, _Moste Potente Potions_. He specifically wanted to ask about the Polyjuice Potion and how it worked.

On the second floor, where his classroom was located, there was an odd sound. Metal grating against stone, such a horribly unique sound; it grated against the ears, and the blond could recognize it from years of experience... No matter the time between then and now. He hadn't seen anything coming onto the floor from the entrance hall, so he continued around the corner to the end of the floor, where a set of stairs went up to the fourth floor, bypassing the third entirely.

"_Fuck_."

A puddle of water carpeted the floor, a chrome-silver mirror to the gruesome scene that hung above it, the torch shining bright in its reflection. Hanging off the loose torch bracket from her loose tail, rocking lazily from a slight breeze was Mrs. Norris; her body pulled the bracket against the stone, producing the screech Ed had heard. Her face was frozen in stricken panic, yellow eyes bulging from her head, which was turned towards the wall the torch hung from. The wall was painted red, the color glistening sickeningly with the flicker of light. It could almost be mistaken for blood, but lacked the unique metallic scent from the hemoglobin present in red blood cells. Despite the lack of the coppery scent, the words themselves sent chills down Ed's spine.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Very carefully, Ed placed the library book on the floor, far from the puddle of water that rippled with the vibrations from his movements. The water sloshed as he walked through it to inspect Mrs. Norris. His gloved hands carefully unknotted her tail from the metal, wincing with the unnatural position the bones had been set in, and how the joints popped as he manipulated them out of their painful predicament. Her fur was quite literally standing up, frozen as the rest of her body. She was, thankfully, warm to the touch, and her heartbeat could be felt pacing itself calmly through her chest. It was almost as though she were sleeping, save for the fact she had been hanging by a torch and was wearing an expression of utter terror.

Forcing the cat into a more natural position, but still mindful of her muscles and bones, Ed held the cat in his arms before setting her by _Moste Potente Potions_. He slid her eyes closed, so they wouldn't dry out. Now, brushing down her fur, Mrs. Norris could have simply been sleeping, instead of having been frightened to the point of being paralyzed as she appeared minutes ago. With a frown, Ed turned back to the message, which still glimmered wetly in the torchlight. He brushed one finger against the T in the first 'THE' and inspected the glove. Despite its appearance, the material used was dry, and hadn't flaked onto the material.

Now, Ed knew for certain it was not blood; it was more likely paint, which was notorious for its immunity to magic. Correction: lead-based paint was immune to magic, much in the same way lead could block x-rays, before it eventually deformed. Filch would probably be set to clean the paint, as he was the caretaker, and would likely try magic-based cleaners. Yeah, he'd get real far with that. A quick check of the time showed he had at least ten minutes until everyone was finished eating; most everyone left at nine.

He placed _Moste Potente Potions_ under his arm, holding it to his side with an elbow, and cradled Mrs. Norris in his other arm against his stomach. The trip down the stairs was awkward, his automail threatening to unbalance and make him fall flat on his face. No, instead he managed to fall on the last step into the entrance hall and landed on his chest. Ed let himself lie there for a moment before moving and forcing himself onto his feet, Mrs. Norris thankfully fine. Argus would kill him if his cat was harmed. Actually, he would probably kill Ed anyways, since _something _was wrong with her. The best uninformed guess he could make was that she had been paralyzed in some way, like an advanced form of the Freezing Charm, since Mrs. Norris didn't seem to need any additional nutrients to remain alive. She was put into some sort of homeostasis.

The Great Hall doors, those giant mahogany slabs. Now of all times they were shut. Ed was sorely tempted to kick them open, but they were likely one-quarter-of-a-ton in terms of weight. There would be no way he could kick them open without some leverage. He forced himself to the doors and settled his weight onto one leg. Just as he braced himself to swing his leg up and around in a roundhouse kick the doors opened inwards, into the Great Hall. The students gathered around the door began to surge forward but halted upon seeing the teacher.

It must have been a strange sight indeed: he was dirty from his meeting with the floor, carrying an infamous ash-colored cat in one arm and a fairly thick, worn-out book in the other. As was wont when something went when it shouldn't or vice versa, Filch made himself known by pushing through the crowd. Ed saw the Headmaster following behind, Minerva hesitating, unsure if this was something she could involve herself in.

"Vilch," Ed said, once the man had stood at the edge. "Here's your cat." He held Mrs. Norris out to her owner as best he could. The other man immediately knew there was something wrong.

"Mrs. Norris?" he whispered, as though afraid of waking her. The students, sensing the show was over, began pushing past them, maintaining a claustrophobic berth for the adults.

"Dumbledore, zere's somezing you may vant to see."

The noise of the students suddenly became hushed as they saw the message left behind. Ed inclined his head and returned to the floor above, just as the other teachers had begun shooing the students away. Filch absently followed, his attention fixed on his stricken cat; he was mumbling quietly to himself and was stroking her fur in a calming manner.

"'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened,'" Severus read aloud. "'Enemies of the heir, beware.'" He curled his lip in disgust before adding, "Whatever fool believes this hogwash is an idiot on an entirely new level."

"But schtill an idiot povervul enough to do zat," Ed reminded him, pointing one finger at Filch, who was still holding his cat possessively.

"Where did you find her?" Dumbledore asked, turning from the paint he had been inspecting.

"Tied by her tail to zee torch. I didn't zink zat Vilch vould appreciate me leavink her zere, so I untied her. Sche vas also... scared. Vide eyes, brischtled vur, zee vorks."

"But she's still alive?"

Heads turned to the speaker. Filch was looking at them hopefully, eyes slightly bloodshot from crying. He was clutching Mrs. Norris tightly, but still ever careful with her. The man may have been cruel, but he still did have a heart.

"Yes, sche is."

"May I see her?" Snape asked , holding his hands out. Hesitantly, Filch handed her over to the Potions teacher, just as Lockhart came around the corner, an annoyingly large smile adorning his face,

"What's all the commotion about?" the man asked, his cheerful smile ever so out of place. Snape glowered at him and carried Mrs. Norris away, Filch a step behind. That man wasn't about to let his cat go. "So the rumors are true! There's been an accident. Well come, my office is closest. Just around here!"

Severus reluctantly followed the author, Dumbledore by his side and Filch behind him. Minerva came from around the corner, face tight; Ed fell into step with her and filled the Transfiguration teacher in on the details. She admitted she had the misfortune of coming into contact with Lockhart just before he had come into the hall. He had insisted on giving her a signed book and talking about his accomplishments before two students had hurried past, whispering about Mrs. Norris and the writing on the wall. Naturally, Lockhart had taken it on himself to 'solve this mystery'.

Inside his office, Snape laid the cat down on Lockhart's desk after sweeping it clean of his fan letters and began a preliminary examination. Minerva performed several spells, to detect any Transfigurations that may have been performed on or around Mrs. Norris while Snape checked her vitals. They both backed up and allowed Dumbledore to perform more specific tests that didn't seem to require a wand. The entire time, Filch was sitting in Lockhart's chair, which had been pulled out of the way, while Ed stood by the door, watching Lockhart strut around and blather in his area of expertise: self-admiration.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her–" Filch flinched, "–probably the Transmogrifian Torture."

"Lockhart," Ed warned.

"I've seen it used many times. So unlucky I wasn't there; I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her life." Another flinch at 'life'.

"Lockhart," Ed repeated, words taking on a dangerous edge.

"I remember something similar happening in Ouagadougou," the other continued on, words taking on a thoughtful tone. "A series of attacks; the full story's in my autobiography–"

"Gilderoy!" Ed finally snapped. Everyone stared at the blond, surprised that he had yelled. "Zee cat isn't dead, so schut zee hell up!"

Lockhart clicked his jaw shut complacently and stood against the wall, silent. Ed eyed him warily before relaxing back into his former position, keeping a close watch on the startled man. Filch was swallowing back a sob, Minerva was unsure whether to reprimand or congratulate Edward. Severus was simply happy to hear the silence that never lasted long around the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dumbledore simply returned to his assessment, which had been nearly completed before Ed lost his temper.

"Edward is correct, Argus," Albus finally said, looking to her owner. "She has been Petrified, though how I do not know. Petrification requires Dark Magic of the most advanced level Luckily for us, Professor Spout has recently acquired some Mandrakes. Once they have fully grown, I will request that a potion be made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it!" Lockhart interrupted. It seemed that Ed's intimidation hadn't lasted long; the other blond _did_ glance in the alchemist's direction before continuing. At least he left some sort of impression. "I could make a Mandrake Restorative Potion in my sleep, if I do say so myself."

"Excuse me," Snape said through gritted teeth, now openly glaring at Lockhart. "I do believe that _I_ am the Potions master working here."

One very awkward pause later, Lockhart graciously left the room. He had the sense to leave despite the room being his own office. But with the increasingly incompetent teacher out of the way, the others were free to crack down on business. Minerva, in an unusual show of compassion, left to bring Filch back to his office. The other two wizards, Dumbledore and Snape, waited until they had left before beginning the interrogation.

"Did you see anything at all?" the old man asked.

"Besides vat you all saw? No," Ed answered. "Vatever had done zis probably vasn't human, correct? Zere vould have been magic levt behind iv it vas a schpell, and Severus vould know iv zere vas any potion zat could Petrivy an animal or human."

"None that I know of," the Potions master confirmed.

"See? Iv I'm no longer needed, zen I vill go."

No protest came when he left, so Ed assumed that they didn't care if he left. Or couldn't bring themselves to stop him. Something like that.

Two days later, on Monday, were classes running again. The school was still abuzz with the discovery of the writing on the wall. In classes, the corridors, the Great Hall and common rooms were not safe; people were gossiping about the situation and were throwing around possible perpetrators. Even Alchemy class was involved in the discussions.

"...and zee vinged dragon vas used to represent zee same idea, zough less ovten zan zee chained toad and eagle. Zee vinged dragon schould _not_ be mistchaken vor zee Vlamel or zee Ouroboros, bos ov vich vee vill talk about in a later class. Any questions?"

"D'you think that whoever attacked Mrs. Norris really opened the Chamber of Secrets?" Lavender Brown asked after being called on.

"Eh?" Ed frowned at her. "Zat has nozing to do viz alchemy. I don't know vat a 'Chamber ov Secrets' is eizer."

"It's a legend," Malfoy said. Wow, this actually interested him as well. Might be worth looking at. "Everyone's borrowed the copies of _Hogwarts: A History _at the library because there's a copy of it in there."

Coming to a quick decision, Ed went for the door. Not the door that went out to the hall, but the one that led to his rooms. He unlocked and opened it, and went straight for the shelves. Several students gawked at the sheer number of books, as he forgot to shut it behind him. Ed found the book and brought it back out with him, shutting the door and checking the spine of the cover for an author. It read 'Bathilda Bagshot'; now it made sense why he found it so quickly.

"Chamber ov Secrets," Ed said aloud, reading the passage. "It's possible, but I doubt zat zee monschter is schtill alive today. It's been vive hundred years? No, it is likely dead." He shut the book and placed it on his desk for a more thorough reading later. "Any ozer questions? No? Homevork is on zee board."

* * *

_It was when the demon was in charge was it at its greatest. Lucius didn't have any choice but to pass the reigns and watch the slaughter— or whatever the demon had found important enough to supervise. Only the demon knew how to change their form, to disguise them better than any Polyjuice Potion could. It wouldn't give up his secrets, and Lucius believed that the demon wanted some sort of advantage over Lucius. As if it didn't have enough; it could take over his (their?) body whenever it chose, it was the only one of the two that could change form, it could prevent Lucius from seeing what was going on, and it could even speed up or slow down the body's natural healing process_

_That last one Lucius had seen first-hand, after a Muggle had thrown a chair at the demon. Should've broken his/it's jaw –it _did_ break their jaw– but the demon laughed, spit in the man's face and killed him with a knife-like hand, the bones mending and rearranging themselves the entire time._

_So many secrets the demon held, keeping all its cards close. It was only reluctantly that it would give any up, and that was after months of pestering and persuasion. The demon probably only told him to shut him up or to laugh at his eagerness when he was given more information. 'Like a puppy with a treat,' it mocked once. And while it adored being addressed as 'the demon', it one day gave up its name, on the very same night that the Dark Lord had fallen, beaten by a mere child._

_Envy._

* * *

_Next chapter: Ignorance_

_Thanks to Pokeshadow55 for beta-ing._

_*Note: The next chapter was originally titled 'Decimation' but it has been changed._

_I'm posting this early because I felt guilty for the last chapter being so short, and I'll still be updating on Saturday like normal. Hopefully it'll also help me get back into writing._

_The OMG Cat: Um... No problems so far as I'm aware... But what does HTTYD have to do with this? And do you mean the movie or Riders of Berk?_

_Review4U: Ed still has his sunglasses. I'm sorry for not mentioning them in a while. And thank you. The two of them meeting may not go out like you expect._

_Guest: Yes, yes it does._


	18. Ignorance

**Edit: Minor errors fixed, thanks to The OMG Cat.**

A/N: Originally, this used to be two separate chapters but I put them together. Also, the quote is technically two, but they're both anonymous. Special love to The Bibliomaniac for their thoughts on the Polyjuice Potion. Thanks to: BlueRoseRabbit, Scaehime, TartKiwiFruit, Summer's Vice, Grocamol, MysteryRiddle, Guest, demonicfate616, septsunny, The OMG Cat, DemonRaily.

**Warning: Slight vulgar language. Slight violence. Science.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Ignorance**

Ignorance – noun; the state or fact of being ignorant, or possessing a general lack of knowledge, learning, information, etc.

* * *

"_Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss._

_Power is corrupting, but bliss is purifying."_

–_Anonymous_

* * *

"So how does zee Polyjuice Potion vork? I don't see how a potion can change a person's DNA." Severus stopped what he was doing, one hand paused mid-flip of a page from the book he was reading.

"I don't know as much about Muggle science as you do," the wizard admitted, "but I do know that the Polyjuice Potion overrides the drinker's body, changing it to match the appearance of the person given. Does that help at all?"

Ed tapped the capped end of his pen against the table, giving the other a shrug. It sounded like the potion would duplicate the DNA it was given and make it the dominant DNA, if temporarily. Or possibly 'coated' the drinker's DNA with the other person's. He could possibly test it outside the school's boundaries and check with an atomic force microscope or a scanning tunneling microscope. An atomic force microscope he could buy, with some good cash in hand, but the scanning tunneling microscope he would have to build on his own.

"I vould have to check to be certain, but I have an idea. Vee could perhaps see zee DNA," Ed mused aloud, pen tapping against the table again. Severus, not quite grasping what the alchemist meant, didn't respond.

It was unusual to see the Potions teacher in the library, period. It wasn't unusual to see him talking, or more likely arguing, with the Alchemy teacher. So then would it be so strange to see them talking _in_ the library, as one of them plowed through the Restricted Section while the other moved at a slower, if comparatively normal pace? Ed had returned _Moste Potente_ _Potions _and was looking for it again because Severus wanted to take a closer look at it. Again.

They had had an argument over the purpose of the shredded boomslang skin and needed to find the book so they could properly fix up the potion. Well, it _was _complicated and one Snape didn't have to make on a daily basis, so he had forgotten the exact order and time certain ingredients should have been added. What they had hoped to do was make two versions of the potion –one with the skin, one without– and have Ed drink them. Snape had been against that idea, but reluctantly caved in with some persuasion from the alchemist. In other words, Ed would treat him to a round of butterbeer or firewhiskey every weekend for the rest of the school year if he was wrong.

"Madame Pince," Snape said, giving up, "do you believe you could assist us with something?"

The old librarian had passed by their table with an odd look to the numerous books adorning the furniture, and perhaps one to each of the teachers as well. She now stood beside Severus, examining the titles of the books they had pulled off the shelves.

"We're looking for the book _Moste Potente Potions_ by Phineas Bourne. Has someone already borrowed it?"

"Yes, just earlier today in fact. Miss Hermione Granger, unless I'm mistaken. Do you need anything else?" Snape shook his head and the thin woman walked away, off to reprimand a student that had thrown his textbook at a classmate.

"It's vine, Severus. I'll ask iv vee can borrow zee book for vive minutes. Perhaps I'll see her durink zee game Vriday. You'll be rooting vor your house, correct?"

"Of course," he answered, giving the blond a deadpan look.

"I don't particularly care eizer vay, but I know I'll be happier iv Malvoy valls a vew times." Now his colleague was glaring at him. "Vat? He could use a change in his attitude. A vew knocks to zee head schould clear zee problem right up."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Zen ve'll have to keep tryink." A smirk came onto Ed's face. "So, you don't appreciate his attitude, eizer."

"I never said that," Snape countered, but the matching expression on his face gave him away.

* * *

"Zis vas not my vault," Ed immediately said, hands held up. Minerva glared at him and he asked, "Vat? You did not ask me to reveree zee game, and it is againscht zee rules vor spectators to intervere in zee match unless zere is an accident or an emergency. A rogue Bludger does not conschtitute as an emergency."

They were arguing over Harry's injury during the Quidditch match; the Gryffindor was furious that he had been injured and 'healed' by Lockhart, and was now sentenced to a painful night in the Hospital Wing for bone regrowing. Ed was right, of course; there was nothing he could have done. Minerva was just upset that he had been injured during a game and there was no one to be found that had messed with the Bludger. Quidditch equipment generally had powerful enchantments, and no student could have simply overridden them. It was possible that it was a seventh year, but with such an incompetent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the chances dropped to zilch.

"Do you have any idea who _might _have jinxed the Bludger?" Ed scratched the side of his face, thinking.

"It vas likely vooever Petrivied Mrs. Norris. Or vas similar, somehow. Do humans and magical creatures use divverent types ov magic?" Minerva shook her head.

"I wouldn't know; Silvanus Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher would know. Why?"

"Maybe a vitch's or vizard's magic is divverent vrom a magical creature's," Ed said, disliking the words 'magical creature'. "So maybe zey can cut zrough enchantments or bypass zem entirely. Slyzerin's monschter, am I right?"

The Transfiguration teacher shook her head in amusement, getting the joke. The Gryffindor team had just played against Slytherin, making it all the more fitting.

* * *

The wing was near-black when Harry woke up, biting his lip very hard; his arm felt as though it were being stabbed. Madame Pomfrey was right when she said bone regrowth was a nasty business. Unexpectedly, something wet and warm touched his forehead and he released the yelp he'd been holding back. The person backed off and Harry could see its large, green eyes through the darkness. It was Dobby the house-elf, the same being that had gotten him into trouble over the summer by dropping his aunt's cake on top of her, his uncle and nephew, as well as the guests they were having over. The previous encounter was enough to teach him that having Dobby nearby was a bad thing, very bad indeed.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. The house-elf bowed his head and a single, crystalline tear ran down the length of his nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school. Why didn't he go back home when he missed the train? But Harry Potter must go home; Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to have him sent away!"

"Wait, _you _blocked the barrier on us? _And_ you sent the Bludger after me?"

"Yes sir, Dobby did," the house-elf confirmed, "and Dobby had to iron his hands after sealing the station, but Dobby didn't care." He held up a pair of badly bandaged fingers and Harry winced at the sight. "Dobby thought Harry Potter was safe, and Dobby sent the Bludger after Harry Potter because a living but injured Harry Potter at home is better than a dead Harry Potter at the school."

"Why'd you do all this?" Harry asked tersely. Dobby sighed, more silent tears dripping down onto the floor.

"If only Harry Potter knew," the house-elf lamented. "If only he knew what he meant to us, we dregs, lowest of the low of the magical world. Dobby remembers when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at his greatest, when we house-elves were treated like vermin. Dobby is still treated like that sir, but life has mostly improved for us house-elves.

"Harry Potter survived the Dark Lord's attack, broke his powers and began a new dawn, sir. One of hope, for those of us that thought the dark days would never end. But now at Hogwarts, terrible things are about to happen, perhaps as Dobby speaks, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is about to repeat itself, with the Chamber of Secrets opened once more."

The house-elf froze, a look of terror flashing on his face. With unexpected speed, he seized a jug of water by Harry's bedside and beat his head with it hard enough that he fell off the edge of the bed, water spilling everywhere.

"Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby," he muttered as he climbed back onto the bed, dazed from both the beating with the jug and the impact with the floor. "There is a Chamber of Secrets? Please, Dobby, tell me what happened."

"No, no, Dobby can't tell," he pleaded, eyes wide and ears flapping as he shook his head. "Please ask no more of poor Dobby." Harry sighed and let the subject drop, instead watching Dobby dry his face with the grimy pillowcase he was wearing.

"Dobby, why do you wear that?" Harry asked.

"This, sir? This is a mark of a house-elf's enslavement. A house-elf can only be freed if his master give him clothes, but Dobby's masters are careful not to hand Dobby so much as a sock, for then he could leave their halls forever."

The house-elf paused, head cocked to the side. A moment later, Harry heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the Hospital Wing. Dobby trembled, a single large shiver that passed from the tips of his bat-like ears down to his toes.

"Dobby must go!" he squeaked.

With a loud crack, reminiscent of a whip, the house-elf was gone. Harry slumped back into bed as the double doors opened, showing the Headmaster's back. He was wearing a long nightgown, its color washed gray in the dim light. His long, white beard was tossed over his shoulder, a nightcap perched atop his head. Professor McGonagall came into view a moment later as Dumbledore turned, carrying something between them. The thing was put down onto a bed; it looked like a statue.

"Get Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore whispered urgently.

The Transfiguration teacher hurried past Harry's bed and he evened out his breathing, eyes almost closed. Her footsteps faded and returned, accompanied by a second pair. Once he felt that they were far enough, Harry peeked over at Dumbledore. McGonagall was with him again, and Madame Pomfrey was adjusting a cardigan she was wearing over her nightdress. The nurse gasped as she saw whatever the thing was.

"What happened?"

"Another attack," Dumbledore answered. "Minerva found him on the stairs in the entrance hall."

"He had a bunch of grapes beside him." That was McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak in and visit Potter."

A pit of dread settled itself into Harry's stomach. Slowly, carefully, he lifted himself off the bed by several inches. None of the adults noticed him, but he could clearly see the face of the statue from where he was. It was Colin Creevey, eyes wide and hands clutching his camera in front of his face.

"Petrified?" Pomfrey asked.

"We believe so," McGonagall said. "If Albus hadn't been heading downstairs for hot chocolate, then..."

The staff members looked down at Colin as the Transfiguration teacher trailed off, apparently noticing the camera.

"Do you think he maybe got a picture of his attacker?" Professor McGonagall wondered as Dumbledore wrenched the device out of the first year's grip.

"Go find Professor Elric. He should be able to extract any footage without damaging it or the camera."

The Transfiguration teacher hurried out the way she had come in. Madame Pomfrey laid a hand on Colin's forehead and looked up at Dumbledore.

"What does this mean, Professor?" Pomfrey asked, fear colouring her voice.

"If my fears are true, then the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again."

"Who?"

"The question is not who, Poppy, but how."

The doors opened again, this time allowing McGonagall as well as Ed inside. He had a black jacket on, as well as his sunglasses and gloves on as usual, and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was mussed up and tied into a sloppy tail. Even from that distance, Harry knew his teacher was annoyed at being woken up at such a late hour.

"Vat?" Then he caught sight of Colin and sighed, putting one hand to his forehead. "He had his camera viz him, yes?" Dumbledore handed it over to the alchemist, and he turned it over in his hands.

"I cannot guarantee zat zere is anyzing salvageable, but I vill try. I schould have an array ready in a halv-hour."

Then he left, McGonagall following. Dumbledore said something to Madame Pomfrey, followed by a goodnight. The nurse returned the saying and began fretting over the Petrified student.

* * *

_Envy was staring out into the red haze that made up the Philosopher's Stone. It was purposely ignoring the man behind it, instead thinking of the past. Before he had been confined to this miserable form. Before, when it was _a god_, one that Father had tried to become but had failed. Envy wasn't much for power –so long as it was above those puny humans– but the souls, they were the best part. The fields of blood, the cries of the damned, all in its name._

_There were highlights of course, since certain times had produced far more souls for him to use than others. The peoples of what's now South America, for example, they were some of the best. The Aztecs had called it Quetzalcoatl, the 'feathered serpent'. Sacrifices nearly every day, all for it. They even created the others for it, free of charge. Of course, Envy wasn't so keen on sharing the human's souls with them, but things worked out in the end. The conquistadors came and a lot more people died, so everything was fine for for the humans, but for them. Before the Aztecs he had been Ogma, on the Irish isles. Before that, Wencheng Wang in the East. Tyr before then, to the Nordics, and Thoth to the Egyptians , and Nabu and Nidaba before even then. Envy had quite the history in influencing the early world, but it didn't stop there._

_Envy had gone back to Europe for a few centuries and reveled in the wars going on there between the imperialistic powers. Then there were the World Wars, the best part of human history yet. Not long after, it had been forced back into its Stone by one of those damn alchemists he had been teaching. At least they got what was coming to them, the fucking traitor. Somehow Envy had ended up in England and had managed to convince the 'Dark Lord' to give its Stone to one of his followers and gained a new form._

_If Envy could go back to simpler times, back to Amestris, it wouldn't have hesitated._

* * *

Ed spun the chalk in his fingers, looking down at the array. There was something missing, he couldn't quite figure out what. He had drawn a smaller circle where the camera would be placed, and drawn the symbol for phosphorus with lines leading to it; from the symbol, the lines split, leading along the edge of the circle and created a smaller one, closer to Ed. The symbol for zinc occasionally connected to the lines, to remove any acids present in the camera, accompanied by arsenic to neutralize poisons. Maybe he needed copper, to prevent overheating. Or tin, to strengthen the zinc or arsenic.

Honestly, he'd never attempted something like this before; deconstructing an object and reconstructing it in a different area was one thing, but to preserve what was on it was something else entirely. He decided to draw the copper by the camera's circle and by his own, to stabilize the equation. Finding the array now fit, Ed turned his attention to the camera.

From some of the books Ed had brought with him, he had been able to discern that it was an Argus C3, the Matchmatic model. A flash bulb was attached to the side, and minor changes had been made to the camera to allow it to run on magical energy rather than the battery power most C3 versions ran on. The body was Bakelite plastic, the metal casings chromium; not including the light bulb itself, the steel flash bulb hood was connected by a steel and plastic bayonet mount on the side of the camera. Satisfied with his findings of the camera's components, the camera was placed into its circle.

His hands touched the edge of the array, bringing the alchemical blue sparks to life, symbols glowing as they activated. Though the camera itself didn't appear to change, the film roll began to appear in the second circle, being reconstructed out of the camera. It was only moments before the entire roll had sat in the center of the second circle, undamaged as far as Ed could tell. Carefully lifting up the reel, Ed placed it in a plastic container he had made beforehand to safely store the strip.

After he clicked the top shut, and erased the array off the classroom floor, he yawned and looked outside. The sky was still dark, stars glittering in place as he left the classroom and headed back to the Hospital Wing. Ed paused by where Minerva told him she had found the first year and crouched down. He didn't expect to find much and was unsurprised when his expectations proved true. Any possible pints the attacker may have left were lost by centuries of feet treading the halls, both scuffing and smoothing the stone.

Leaving the stairs, Ed returned to the Hospital Wing, finding Dumbledore gone. Minerva was talking quietly with Madame Pomfrey, and Harry had fallen back asleep. Yes, he had noticed the second year earlier and would be unsurprised if Dumbledore had as well. The two women noticed Ed and quieted themselves, likely wanting to keep their discussion private.

"Here," the blond said, thrusting both camera and film container at Minerva. "Let me know how it vorks out."

He left before Minerva could argue, just wanting to get back to bed. Although, he would admit that seeing Creevey frozen like that was both disturbing and saddening. What did one have to do to deserve something like that?

…Fine, what did _Creevey_ do to deserve something like that, besides annoy everyone he met to death? And, for that matter, why hadn't they attacked Lockhart yet?

* * *

Mid-December, Ed was in the teacher's room, developing a better heating spell so as not to need to reapply the one he currently had every hour. He'd rather not experiment in his classroom; the last time it had failed, everything was left charred, and he'd been walking around with a smoky smell, like charred chicken, for a week. A distraction came in the form of Severus, who had come into the teacher's room and startled the alchemist so badly he fell out of his seat. The Potions master was yelling and threatening, waving his arms around.

"Calm down and tell me vat happened," Ed groaned from the floor.

Severus lifted his colleague up into a chair and found one for himself. Clasping his hands together and taking a deep breath, the other man launched into a rendition of his last Potions class, with the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Someone, and he restrained himself from pointing fingers, had thrown a Filibuster's Anti-Water Firework into Goyle's Swelling Solution which resulted in more than half the class being hit by the somehow successful mixture.

"Muscht've been bad," the blond idly commented.

"It could've been worse," Severus finally admitted. "Lockhart came in after the class ended and asked me to 'assist' him in the little Dueling Club he's been setting up."

"You're goink to accept, correct?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have an excuse to jinx him otherwise."

"I zink I'll attend, juscht to see zat," Ed laughed.

A week later, close to the winter holidays, the two of them were in the Great Hall, Lockhart prancing around on the golden stage set up just for the Dueling Club. The Potions master watched with disgust, while Ed was torn between laughing and knocking the childish man off the platform.

"It's almost eight o' clock," the author trilled.

"It's seven zirty," Ed corrected, stuffing his pocket watch back into his pocket. "So, vat do you plan on schovink zem?"

"Defensive and offensive spells, of course." The other teacher looked at the alchemist blankly, like _he _was the idiot, rather than the other way around. "This is a dueling club."

"Ov course it is," Ed sighed.

He was saved from hearing whatever response Lockhart had by the sudden swell of students coming in through into the Great Hall. Seven forty-five. Still not eight o' clock, yet. Lockhart started talking to the students again and Ed sighed.

"Vake me up ven it is eight," he told Severus.

The blond sat down on the floor and promptly fell asleep. He had an odd dream involving a target, which he was preparing to shoot, when Snape shoved him over and promptly woke him up. Ed glared at him but was unable to act because Lockhart was talking and the Potions master was gone, up on the stage with their colleague.

"Professor Dumbledore has given me permission to start this little dueling club." Little? There were about a hundred people in the room, the blond saw as he stood. "In light of the recent _incidents_, we both believe it would be in your best interest to know how to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions –for full details see my published works.

"And now, allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape." The alchemist chuckled at that. "He has admitted to knowing a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to assist me in a demonstration before we begin. None of you need worry; you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him!"

Snape made a face at Lockhart, one that should have warned him he had crossed a line. The oblivious teacher bowed deeply at his colleague, twirling and waving his hands uselessly. Severus stood there, eyes narrowed in distaste. Once the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher straightened up again, both held their wands out before them, not so dissimilar to how a sword would be held.

"As you can see, we are both holding our wands in the accepted combat position," Lockhart informed the crowd. "On three, we will both fire our spells; aiming not to kill, of course.

"One– Two– Three–"

Lockhart swung his wand at Severus, who had already cried "_Expelliarmus_," the disarming spell. With a flash of scarlet light, Lockhart flew back and off the stage, wand in Snape's hand. The blond had slammed right into the stone wall, hair standing on end from the energy packed into the spell. He unsteadily rose to his feet and tottered back onto the stage, somewhat dazedly.

"And there you have it," Lockhart said, accepting his wand from Snape. "That was a Disarming Charm, and as well as you could see, I had lost my wand. If you don't mind, however, it was fairly obvious what you were about to do. If I wished to, I could have easily stopped you; it was far more instructive for the students to see it in action...

"Enough demonstrating!" he suddenly shouted, probably picking up on the murderous intent Severus was now giving off. "We'll be separating you all into pairs, so come along now. Professor Snape, if you will..."

Ed headed over to Snape while he began matching up students, a grin on his face.

"You did zat on purpose, didn't you?" When he received no answer, the Amestrian continued: "Overchargink zee schpell and blaschtink Lockhart into zee vall... Brilliant!" The Potions master devilishly smiled and Ed knew it had nothing to do with blowing their colleague up. "Severus?"

"I think it's time to split up the dream team," he said, facing three second years. "Weasley, you're with Finnegan. Potter– No, I don't think so. You're partnered with Mr. Malfoy. And you Miss Granger, you'll be with Miss Bulstrode."

"Do you vant zis place to blow up?" Ed asked. He took a moment to consider that question. "Alright, do you vant _zem_ to blow zee place up? I'd prever to do it myselv, zank you."

"I find," Snape said quietly, "that matching oneself against their rival spurs one to do better."

The Amestrian didn't respond. That answer was unusually philosophical for the Potions master, which led Edward to believe he had his own reasons for pairing the two boys up against each other. All he could do was hope they didn't kill each other.

"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted, disrupting both teachers from their thoughts. "On the count of three, cast the Disarmament Charm, _only_ the Disarmament Charm. We don't want any accidents, of course. One– Two– Three–"

There was a bang and a muffled shout. Harry stumbled back a step, a glare being sent to the smug second year that was his opponent. He sent his own silvery spell at the blond, who doubled over, wheezing. In seconds, the sound turned into breathy, uncontrolled laughter. Malfoy shot another spell at Harry in between gasps and the Gryffindor's legs moved out of his control.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" Severus yelled over the noise of battling students.

A hush came over the crowd, the haze of green smoke overhead emphasizing the silence. Neville and Finch-Fletchley were on the ground, panting as though Ed had them run six miles around the Quidditch field. Ron was holding up Finnegan, apologizing for whatever his wand had done.

Bulstrode had Hermione in a headlock, the smaller girl whimpering in pain from the awkward position. Both had discarded their wands, which lay at their feet, forgotten. Ed walked over to the large Slytherin girl and she immediately backed off, snatching up her wand. The blond checked to make sure Hermione was okay while Lockhart moved through the crowd, skittish as a deer.

"I suppose I should teach how to bock unfriendly spells, hmm?" He looked to Snape and the latter grinned in an unfriendly manner, making the author flinch and look away. "Ah, any volunteers? Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about–?"

"I have to disagree," Snape said. "Longbottom can cause havoc with even the simplest of spells. If he participates, there won't be enough of Finch-Fletchley to fill a thimble." Neville blushed crimson with embarrassment and looked down at the stone floor. "Might I suggest Malfoy and Potter?"

"An excellent idea," Lockhart agreed, ushering the two students into the center of the room. The rest of the crowd backed away to give them room, the students well aware of the rivalry present between the Gryffindor and Slytherin. "Now, Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He moved his wand in some weird motion and dropped it as Severus leaned over to tell Malfoy something. The second year sneered as Lockhart picked up his wand, making up some excuse. Harry asked something and Lockhart merrily clapped him on the shoulder.

"Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

Ed sniggered at that but Lockhart unfortunately missed it or ignored the question on purpose, instead saying, "One, two, three, go!"

Malfoy didn't waste any time, immediately lifting his wand and shouting, "_Serpensortia_!"

There was a loud bang and a burst of smoke from Malfoy's wand; Ed grimaced, the sound too alike to that of a gunshot for his tastes. A long black snake was suddenly on the floor, head raised and tongue flickering out to taste the air. There were screams and students back away from the reptile, which docilely looked around in confusion.

"I've got it," Ed sighed, moving to lift the snake from the ground. Usually not the best of ideas, but it was better than trusting any of the magic users with disposing the snake. Unfortunately, Lockhart had other ideas.

"Allow me!" he yelled, brandishing his wand, the movement similar to a certain murderer Ed once knew that had a weird fetish for cutting people up.

Another loud bang later, and the snake was shot ten feet in the air and back down again, landing with a painful sounding smack. Furious, the snake hissed and lunged at the nearest being, which happened to be Ed, sinking its fangs into his leg. The blond glared at Lockhart and gestured to the snake, which was still gripping the limb.

"You see vat happens ven you get involved?" Ed spoke quietly enough that only Lockhart could hear him, and he walked over to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, snake trailing uselessly from his leg where it refused to let go. "People get hurt, and vee got lucky it bit me razer zan a schtudent. And iv you don't mind, I have to remove zis snake vrom my leg."

Ed stormed out of the Great Hall and up the marble stairs, concealing a grin on his face. He should have been far more furious than he was, but to an outsider, the scene must have been comical. One thing that he had been serious about, however, was that Lockhart had gotten lucky. He had been even luckier that the snake went for Ed's left leg rather than his right; automail didn't have blood in it, so the venom did nothing to him.

"Wait up!" someone yelled at the base of the stairs. Ed barely had the chance to turn around before being barreled over by an overexcited student. "Aren't you hurt?" Hermione asked, her friends panting as they caught up.

"Could you run any faster, Hermione?" Ron complained.

"Yes."

"You might vant to back avay," Ed warned. The snake had been eyeing the newcomers in a way he didn't like. "And no, I'm vine. Like you von't be iv zee snake decides it doesn't love me anymore." He looked around nervously and said, "I've got to go, I'll see you later."

And he hurried away, the snake writhing as it was dragged against the stone floor, leaving the students shocked for the briefest of moments. They broke out of it and hurried after him again, determined not to be left behind.

"Come on," Harry hissed, dragging Hermione forward.

She had tripped on the hem of her robes while they were running up the stairs and Harry had caught her by her elbow. Now they were huddled outside their teacher's room, peeking in and listening to him talk to himself. There was a squeal as he pushed one of the chairs out of the way, and a metallic _clunk_ as he lifted his leg onto the desk. Harry looked over Ron's head and saw that he had elevated the snake-ridden leg. But, as far as he could see, there was no reason for there to be any metallic noise…

"Damn," Ed muttered, checking the snake's fangs with his right hand. The reptile hissed at him and writhed in an attempt to dislodge itself but was stuck, the fangs having lodged themselves between two of the foreleg plates. "Vondervul, it's in my leg."

Someone shifted and accidentally hit the door. With an unnaturally loud _creak_, the door opened further and Ed snapped his head up. Without further encouragement, the three of them ran as fast as they could. The door could be heard opening further as they turned the corner, and Harry caught a glimpse of his teacher's face. Rather than angry, he looked disheartened. He knew that the Alchemy teacher knew it was them that had been spying.

* * *

The black tiger snake was locked in a cage he transmuted for it, now as docile as a garden hose. It was coiled thickly, head resting on top of its back as it watched the blond pace his room, muttering and growling to himself, fixing hi sleeves and brushing back his hair which had been taken out of its usual braid.

"_They could have just asked,"_ the human repeated. _"I would've let them in. Would've taken longer to get rid of the snake, but still."_

He looked over at the reptile again, shook his head and resumed his pacing. The scaled creature watched with interest, flicking its tongue out to taste the air, picking up a myriad of scents from its new companion. Metal, salt, water, oil, soap, grease, a weak layer of pheromones...

"_What am I going to do with you?"_ he eventually sighed, rocking back on his heels and pausing in his repetition to look at the snake. Realizing he was talking to it, the snake stared back, head turned so it could get a better view. _"Huh. You're looking at me like..."_

The human narrowed his eyes at the snake, moving in closer. The scaly reptile drew back slightly, unnerved by his sudden close scrutiny. It turned its head so it faced the stranger, fangs peeking out of its grinning mouth.

Its entire bearing screamed, "Stay away!"

The human seemed to pick up on that, as he backed away again, gaze never leaving the snake's. Slowly, the serpent relaxed, closing its mouth but still wary of the other. The human was a strange one, that was for sure; its leg wasn't soft, it had been hard and metallic. It also carried one of those sticks that charmers had, but didn't smell of the smoke or light their tricks created. The stranger was curious, indeed.

"_I wonder what you eat,"_ the human mused. _"Most snakes eat rats and other rodents, so I suppose those will have to do."_

It didn't understand the human's speech, continuing to watch him with a wary eye. The person gave up, tugging on one lock of hair again. He muttered something to himself and left, leaving the fires burning on the walls. The snake slowly stirred, tongue flicking out again. The scent-cocktail the human carried around was strong, but aging. He was truly gone, for now.

The snake swung its head around, looking for a potential exit. The walls of the cage were mesh, the holes too small to allow for escape. The only large door was up on the top, where it couldn't slither its way up and leave. But even that route was mesh-covered, leaving no room for anything larger than a ladybug to crawl or squirm its way out.

A banging noise came from outside, followed by low voices. It didn't understand whatever language they were speaking, but it recognized tones. One sounded harried, the other curious and demanding. The anxious voice, which the snake identified as its captor/companion, broke off and spoke again, a clicking following immediately after. The door opened and the human entered the room, carrying a similar, if smaller cage with it. A cloth covered its top but didn't prevent the squeaking coming from it. The snake flicked its tongue out with interest. Food.

With a grimace, the human removed the cover and revealed the brown furred rats, squabbling with each other for dominance. The cage was opened and the rodents spilled out, right into the serpent's waiting gullet. Yes, the human was interesting, and most definitely _worth_ keeping a close eye on.

* * *

Ed rubbed his face with the heel of one hand. Too tired to teach that day, he made up a test and gave it to the students, letting them use the rest of the class as a study period once they finished. And all they would talk about was the incident the night before, sneaking glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking. The only ones that weren't, save for the few stragglers who hadn't finished their tests, were Ron, Hermione and Harry. He knew that they knew he had seen them the night before, and now they couldn't look him in the eye.

The fire roaring in the grate kept the room near-blistering, making the students uncomfortable. The storm outside was particularly nasty this year, keeping the corridors chillier than Ed could stand. He was happy to stay in the classroom, thank you, where he didn't freeze up and risked frostbite.

He picked up his pen and marked another answer wrong on the test he had been correcting. The Gray Wolf did not represent mercury, but antimony. The counterpart of the Unicorn was the Pelican. Ed checked the name written at the top of the test and failed it, writing a bold zero in the corner. He reached for another test when he noticed something.

"Vere is Mr. Vinch-Vletchley?" The students, long used to his mangling the English language, gave either noncommittal answers or didn't speak at all. The boy, it would seem, had disappeared. "Vat is his next class?"

"Charms," one of the Hufflepuffs said.

The kid would regret skipping class; Ed would make sure of that. Once the bells rang, signaling that they could leave, he wrote a note on the board, so the next class would know to start the test themselves. With that taken care of, he began making his way to the Charms corridor.

The hall was cold, enough that he could see his breath misting before him, and find snow stuck in the crevice between the wall and the floor, even in the cracks in the flagstones. The culprit was quickly found; a window on the other end of the hall had been left open so the wind could enter the castle. Ed rubbed one hand against his sore shoulder and crossed over so he could shut the window. The glass, however, refused to shut; the sash lock strike had been knocked off, leaving the window stuck open.

He felt the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably and the teacher turned around. A nearly empty corridor faced back, the same way he had come from. On the other side, it was nearly identical. Something dark was just around the corner, giving off a brackish glow, quite similar to a black light bulb. There was nothing down that section of the hall except an unused room; Ed remembered that clearly from night patrol last year. He barely paused to transmute the window shut and prepared himself to transmute his blade. With a quick turn, he spun around the corner, fists out and ready to strike. He stopped short once he saw what was there.

One of the school ghosts was floating in the air, stiff, his normally transparent body now the color of smoke. The pearly stains that usually adorned his clothing had turned gray, as did the chains that he often wore. He was floating a half foot off the floor, the chains swinging gently as the air moved around him, face frozen into its usual gaunt expression. The Slytherin ghost, the Bloody Baron, had been attacked. There were few brave enough to stand up to him, and whatever could do this to a ghost, let alone the _Bloody Baron_ was troubling.

Next to him was Finch-Fletchley, expressing the shock the Baron should have been showing. He was stiff, unseeing eyes facing the ceiling. The sleeve of his robes was bloody, and Ed guessed that he had scraped his elbow or something when he had fallen. Ed huffed in annoyance, unsure how he was going to get the two to Madame Pomfrey. Then he remembered where he was, in the Charms corridor. Filius' classroom wasn't that far away.

He looked back to the two Petrified beings, warned them with a pointless, "Schtay," and headed off to find his pint-sized colleague.

* * *

_Next chapter: Gilded_

_I have learned something this chapter. Dobby is one of the most annoying characters, EVER, to write. And I apologize if this seems a bit off; I'm going to a cousin's graduation party (yeah!) and it just so happens to be today.  
_

_Guest: Yes. You're welcome; I felt guilty 'cause the they were short, so I posted on Wednesday as well. One day, Ed will, but that day is not today. Nor will it be next week. Quite possibly it could, but that depends on the effect it has on the body. And even if the Stone did, I doubt that neither he nor the Basilisk would be patient enough to win the staring contest. And if it came to that, the Basilisk would win, no matter what. Snakes don't have eyelids._

_Guest: Presuming that this these following reviews are all the same person, all the responses will be under the same name._

_Ch. 6: You're welcome. Almost, but not quite. Not quite._

_Ch. 9: Don't cry! It's not over yet!_

_Ch. 11: Because he needed to die. I'm sorry but it's true. And even if I didn't explicitly state it in the chapter, it still would have been true._

_Ch. 17: I like fights, and I'll admit I can be violent at times, but I can't do that for several reasons. I already have plans for Lucius and Envy, and it wouldn't be a smart move for Lucius to reveal that he's also Envy, or that Envy is alive, period, at this time. If anything, Lucius would blow his cover as a last resort. Or, if Envy had any say in the matter, to annoy Ed. But he doesn't. Finally, it's been so long since anyone from Amestris, save for the Homunculi, Edward and Hohenheim, that shifting into anyone from Amestris would do nothing for Envy in a fight. Except get all his teeth knocked out, but Ed would do that anyways._

_The OMG Cat: Oh. Well, I've heard about the 2014 movie, but there are rumours that they plan on expanding the world and that it's probably going to be a trilogy. Riders of Berk is the TV series that's supposed to take place between the movies. But you know what? I can't wait another year for the movie!_


	19. Gilded

A/N: Again, originally two chapters, but what do I care? What do you care? Well, you probably don't, except that you get to read more. Thanks to: MysteryRiddle, Guest, Four Leafed Fortune, demonicfate616, Summer's Vice, Morte Cacciatore, Guest, kimcat, DemonRaily, septsunny, The OMG Cat, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, ScarkitTheMadaNeko, kairi loves sora.

**Warning: Slow-ish chapter. Alchemy. Pink. Slight language.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Gilded**

Gilded – adjective; 1, covered or highlighted with gold or something of a golden color; 2, having a pleasing or showy appearance that conceals something of little worth

* * *

"_I've heard the expression 'to gild the lily' before, but the spirits actually did it! They gilded the lily!"_

–_Christopher Paolini, "Brisingr"_

* * *

"I vould like to take zee time to say zat I did not do zis," Ed proclaimed, one gloved finger in the air for emphasis. No one paid him any mind, save for Severus, who barely glanced at him before turning back to the problem at hand.

They were in the Hospital Wing, Severus, Dumbledore and Ed himself, inspecting the newly Petrified. Madame Pomfrey was keeping the visitors out of their way, and treating those that needed it as quickly as possible. The students were afraid of being Petrified next, and wanted to know what could Petrify a ghost. They were intangible, so that narrowed down the possibilities to a select few. But whatever those were, the teaching staff had no idea.

A number of the more malicious students that had a bone to pick with the blond were spreading rumours that _he_ had attacked them somehow. Most people didn't believe them, but they were gaining an exceptional number of followers, especially when they had heard of the latest attack. Ed would admit it did look suspicious that he had been the one to find both Mrs. Norris and Justin plus the Bloody Baron –though he was a ghost– first, but if had done it, then he wouldn't have been the one to inform Dumbledore or Filius. That kind of move would put him in the spotlight, but also direct suspicions away from him, especially since there was no other evidence that he could have had a hand in it.

"Perhaps it is zis 'Monschter ov Slyzerin' zat has been attackink people," Ed mused. There weren't many possibilities, so far as he could see, but it was merely an idea.

"Don't tell me you believe that rubbish," Severus snapped.

"I'm sayink it's a possibility," the blond defended. He hadn't done it, but that didn't mean that Slytherin wasn't clever enough to hide something in the bowels of the castle for his descendents to find and wreak havoc with it.

"You'd have to be a git like Lockhart to even suggest it."

"I'm not like him!"

"Boys," Dumbledore interrupted.

Ed was prepared to yell, 'Who're you calling boy!? I'm older than you are!' but caught himself in time. That didn't stop Severus from wholeheartedly glaring at the Headmaster, who stared calmly back. The Potions master broke the contest by glancing back to the Hufflepuff and the Slytherin ghost.

"What has the power to harm a ghost?" he asked.

* * *

The snake's head followed the movement, bobbing up and down with the gesture. The pen paused, and the snake's head stopped. Its tongue flicked out with the short reprieve, and retracted once the pen swiped through the air in an arc, head mimicking its path.

Edward didn't know much about snakes, but he had heard once that snake charmers controlled their snakes not through music, but by the movements of their instruments. The alchemist wasn't sure if it was true, but the serpent did seem rather interested in his pen. He paused again and looked out the window, losing interest in the snake's curious nature.

Broken from its trance, the snake shook its head and glared as best as it was able at the blond before slithering around its cage. There weren't any crevices or weak spots or _anything_ that it could exploit to escape. It hissed in anger, earning a glance from the teacher.

"Say zat again."

Ed was looking at the snake. He remembered an occasion very clearly two summers ago, when he heard Minerva speaking to Remus in English before he was taught how. Every time she spoke, the words had tickled and tantalized him, the meaning just beyond reach. Hearing the snake now did the same thing; the meaning behind hissing was just beyond reach, but with a little nudge he was sure he could get it. He wasn't an idiot for talking to the snake either, since it had been _proven_ that animals had their own, if more complex, languages that scientists were just beginning to breach.

The snake hissed again, this time in a more curious manner. It looked at the cage door and back at him, expectant.

"You vant me to let you out?" He received a blank stare. "You," he pointed at the snake, "out?" and opened the cage door, reaching a hand in and lifting the reptile out, where it was placed on top of the cage.

If this didn't work, then Ed was an idiot, letting a venomous snake out. But he wanted to know where this would lead, so he was prepared to take a risk at his own expense. Better him than someone else, anyone who didn't deserve being injured because of his mistakes. The snake simply sat there, as best as a legless creature was able. It stared up at him, motionless. He stared back and groaned in both relief and disappointment when it continued to do nothing.

He muttered to himself and let the snake back into its cage, careful to use his right hand. As he had expected, the snake writhed and hissed, biting at his metal limb several times before it realized that it couldn't get away. Ed shut the cage and locked it, disappointed at the lack of results. At least he knew the snake was aware and could reason; it had attacked him once it had realized he would lock it in the cage again, and was now giving him the stink eye. He could feel the serpent's disapproving stare burn into him as he put out all of the torches, even through the slight haze of smoke that curled from their extinguished stubs, even through the sudden darkness between the two of them. He hoped that lock was secure, and that it couldn't escape.

The room was unusually bright the next day, on the first morning of winter break. The light stabbed into Ed's poor retinas with a vengeance that sunlight shouldn't have possessed. With a groan, he threw an arm over his face but the damage had been done; he was awake and there was no chance of him going back to sleep. The room was warm, courtesy of the fire that was roaring in the adjacent classroom, and the snake was basking lazily in the heat.

It hissed a greeting at him and Ed decided then that he'd give the snake one more go. Surely there wasn't too much harm in it, and the worst that would happen was the snake biting him. He could afford a few bites, venomous or not. He dragged the chair beneath his desk out and sat in it, watching the snake intently. It drew back slightly, perturbed by his suddenly strange behavior. Sure, he'd done something similar before, but having someone stare at you for extended periods of time was rather strange. The alchemist broke the tie by pulling out one of the drawers in the desk and moving the things inside, searching for something.

"Yes," he said, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. He put them aside for the moment, and pointed at the reptile. "Schnake." It twitched in confusion and hissed in response. "Schnake," he repeated, earning the same response as well as something that looked like a roll of its eyes. Maybe they were coming to a breakthrough, after all.

* * *

Throughout the entirety of dinner, Ed could feel something strange going on. Disregarding the fact that there were only a couple dozen people eating, including the faculty, there was a suspicious air in the Great Hall. Perhaps it was Malfoy, over at the Slytherin table, belting out rude comments like today was his last day. Maybe it was Hagrid getting drunk on alcohol-spiked eggnog. No, that didn't seem like it. But the Amestrian managed to push his feelings aside for the meal; he didn't want to get further involved in this 'Heir of Slytherin' business than he already was.

It was when he spared the Gryffindor table a lay glance when he realized it; Hermione was herding her two friends out into the entrance hall, looking fairly harried. Ed played with the notion of following them, since they were likely about to do something stupid. He winced, remembering the stupid things he'd done and almost stood up. Almost. Hagrid pulled Ed over and thrust a cup of eggnog under his nose.

"Drink up," the giant slurred.

Ed weakly smiled and said, "No zank you, I don't drink."

It was a lie, since Ed did drink on occasion, but Hagrid wouldn't take no for an answer. After another hour of arguing with the caretaker, Ed managed to get himself out of the Great Hall and was taking a breather just outside by the marble stairs. There was a sudden pounding and Ed flinched at the noise, mistaking it for something more deadly. Realizing his mistake, he looked for the source and found it to be one of the doors nearby. Upon opening it, two worse-for-wear Slytherins came out, looking fairly bedraggled.

"Vat happened?" he asked, recognizing the two.

"Don't know," Goyle mumbled sheepishly. "I just remember falling asleep out here." Crabbe nodded in agreement and Ed sighed.

"Vell, zen you schould probably go to your common room. It's gettink late and it's not save vor schtudents to be vanderink zee halls."

The two lumbered off in the direction of the dungeons, leaving the blond behind, frowning as he watched them go. The ominous feeling had returned and he noticed they were missing their shoes, only increasing the foreboding. The two figures disappeared and another two came up from the same corridor, sprinting. Ron and Harry ran past him, also shoeless, and up the marble staircase. Before he had a chance to speak, they were gone. Ed growled in frustration and ran after them.

He lost them around an unsettlingly familiar patch of wall, where the disturbing message had resided before Filch figured out how to remove it. Sounds were coming from the nearby girls' bathroom, the voices too masculine to be any of the female student population. With a quick curse and a hope that he was right, Ed pushed open the door. Three startled pairs of eyes met his, and one transparent yet amused pair as well. One of the three mewled unhappily, pulling their robes up to cover their now-furry face and hauntingly yellowed eyes. The other two were simply too surprised to react, since: one, a male teacher had just entered the girls' bathroom after them; and two, he had seen the brightest girl in their grade after they had just committed the alchemical taboo on her. On Christmas, no less. The date meant little to him, but it surely meant something to them.

"Vich one ov you," Ed said with far more calm than he felt was appropriate, "has been practicink human transmutation?"

* * *

_Lucius frowned at his son, suppressing the demon's cackle in the back of his mind._

"_Oh this is rich! I don't think I could've imagined anything better," it snickered._

_Draco was sitting on the floor, four years old at the time. The house-elf Lucius had assigned to watch over Draco, Dobby, was sitting on the floor. Well, _chained_ would be a more accurate term. Somehow, the marble floor had been changed into a set of fetters, keeping the house-elf from moving more than three feet away from his current position. And he couldn't Apparate out of his predicament; Lucius had ordered all house-elves not to do so in his son's presence._

"_Stay," the four-year-old ordered. He was a little short for his age, and somewhat underweight, but Lucius had chalked it up to all the running and hiding the boy had done. "You'll be safe here."_

"_He reminds me of someone I used to know," the demon said before laughing again, perplexing the wizard._

* * *

Hermione sat on the bed, wincing and flinching every time she remembered how Professor Elric had gotten angry. Not because there were two male students in the wrong bathroom, not when one considered the fact that he went in there himself. Not the fact that three second years, although it was mostly her, had brewed a highly advanced and, very likely, _illegal_ potion, which would have required ingredients no second year would have, and would have very likely been stolen from Snape's personal stores. Which they were, of course, since none of them could just order any of those ingredients.

But he thought they were performing alchemy, human transmutation. On _her_. If he thought a Polyjuice Potion gone wrong was human transmutation, then she was afraid to know what human transmutation _really_ did. How he knew how it looked like...

"It's time for your next dose, dear," Madame Pomfrey said, holding a steaming mug.

Hermione grimaced at the thought, skin itching as the fur brushed against her face. _'But being furry,'_ she thought with a glance at the afflicted students and the ghost in the wing, _'is still better than being Petrified.'_

She took the mug with a small 'Thank you,' to the nurse, and her thoughts drifted back to her teacher. He had dragged the two second years down to the Hospital Wing and escorted her down with far more kindness and explained the 'situation' to a startled Madame Pomfrey. The three of them, after receiving a hard stare from the nurse, explained what had happened in a way that sounded less harmful and illegal than it really was.

They had been practicing spells for dueling, and one of them (they weren't sure which,) had misspoke and the resulting spell had turned Hermione into a cat-human hybrid. The only safe place they could practice was in the unused girls' bathroom, which was largely avoided because Moaning Myrtle frequented the toilets around there. Professor Elric simply had the misfortune to walk in on them before they could get her to Madame Pomfrey.

It was a lie, and they all knew it, except for the nurse. Why their Alchemy teacher hadn't called them out on it, she wouldn't know, but he had given them a strange look before leaving. The entire thing was unsettling, that was for sure. Soon after, Harry and Ron were kicked out so the nurse could treat Hermione. Now she was here, stuck in this furry body... and that tail wouldn't stop _twitching_!

* * *

"Vee vill now move onto zee elemental symbols. Zere are vour essential elements and zree principal metals. Zee elements are vire, vater, earz, and air, vile zee elements are mercury, sulvur and salt." With each name, he drew the representing symbol on the chalkboard. "Each element on zee periodic table has a symbol, but vor now, vee vill vocus on zese seven. Air represents zee mixture of compounds and elements commonly vound in the atmoschphere. Earz is zee various compounds zat vorm zee Earz's cruscht. Vater includes any and all electrolytes naturally vound in vater."

There was the sound of scribbling as the class wrote down what he dictated and copied down the symbols provided on the board. The rest of the evening was uneventful, spent explaining and drilling the symbols into the children's heads, and repeating it with the remaining older classes. For the fifth years and above, it was not a fun ordeal. Ed had learned sometime over winter break about his 'fan club' that had been founded by some of the older female students. In Hogwarts, its size had quickly come to rival Lockhart's, something that scared the alchemist greatly. If there was one thing he learned to fear in his long lifetime, it was angry females.

The first incident he had with his so called 'fan club' was burned in his mind: to make a long story short, they had been chasing him around the castle, and he stopped by the kitchens to hide from them. The house-elves, being ever kind beings as they were, directed him to the Room of Requirement, an ever changing room that provided the seeker with whatever means it could provide. The room was quite useful, but couldn't reproduce certain objects or scenes, as it was limited by the laws of magic.

Despite its limitations, it was a good place to hide out whenever the girls were on what Ed had quickly come to call their stalker rounds. The name explained the idea quite well, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Quiet, thinking about it too loudly might attract stalkers...

Ah, disregarding that, the rest of the day was fine, and in the following months the students picked up fairly well on the elemental symbolism. Hermione was eventually released from the Hospital Wing, totally fur-free, and she was still at the top of her year. Ed still wasn't on good speaking terms with the Golden Trio, and only Hermione attempted to get back into his good graces. And he couldn't exactly say no to her, either, on student-teacher terms at the least.

It was in February, however, that things had gotten out of hand. On none other than Saint Valentine's Day, with all of those gut-wrenching pink hearts and valentines and flowers and, the only good thing in Ed's opinion, chocolate. What? Chocolate was good. Maybe not healthy, but it was delicious. And didn't taste like cow-juice, either. But the romantic aspect always put him off for a number of reasons. Come to think of it, he didn't like a large number of modern holidays, or holidays in general.

After a late night spent with the snake, which was going along fairly well in their attempts to communicate, Ed entered the Great Hall. At first, he believed he was hallucinating out of stress and/or lack of sleep and was afraid of what his mind could conjure in moments of weakness. Once he saw the looks on other people's faces, he realized this was not an unfortunate, if demented, product of his mind. He was _terrified_ by what he saw.

Large, glistening salmon-pink flowers were covering the walls, matched by frilly pink tablecloths on all of the tables. Small heart-shaped confetti was falling from the ceiling, and, for a moment, Ed feared that whoever had decorated the room had also turned the magical skylight pink; once he saw the cotton candy blue, however, the dread subsided slightly. Looking at the teacher's table, he found the culprit, decked out in robes of the same color scheme as most of the hall. Lockhart was standing at the staff table, waving for silence from the rest of the occupants. The alchemist felt his hand twitch and sat down next to Snape, who looked like he wanted to deck the overenthusiastic Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ed simply shoved his plate over and face planted into the table, just as Lockhart began to speak.

"Settle down, everyone. I would like to tell you all, 'Happy Valentine's Day', and thank all forty-six people who have sent me cards so far! I have taken the liberty of arranging this surprise for you all–"

'_With Dumbledore's permission, of course,'_ Ed thought. _'Bastards.'_

"–and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and Ed could hear the mahogany doors open, followed by the sound of marching footsteps. They didn't have the neat clack that boots usually made, and that little tidbit was almost enough to make him look up. He decided against it, though. All the sappy romance was probably going to make him sick.

"My friendly, card carrying cupids," the blond announced, "will be searching through the school today to deliver your valentines!" Ed noted to alchemically lock his door between classes. "And the fun doesn't stop here!" And maybe transmute Lockhart to the floor, while he was at it.

"I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter the spark of celebration! Why not ask Professor Snape to whip you up a Love Potion?" Ed felt the Potions master tense and he couldn't hold back a snicker, which turned into a quiet yelp as his chair was kicked. "Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I know, the sly old dog. And Professor Elric could transmute you a nice little gift for your special valentine."

Ed blinked and looked up at Lockhart on the podium. He reached down and clapped his hands together before placing them onto the floor. Just as his speech was being finished, the author was trapped in place by a pair of stone shackles that had encased his legs up to the knees. Not noticing, Lockhart tried to step forwards and nearly fell over, but was stuck in place, so he was only thrown off balance. Ed, who had returned to his former position with his face on the table, chuckled again as the teacher cried out in surprise.

'_He had it coming to him,'_ he thought.

* * *

"No, I do not vant your message!" Ed yelled again at the short creature.

It was about four feet tall, wearing a fake pair of golden wings and holding a harp in one hand. The dwarf kept picking at the leather straps that circled each arm and kept the wings in place, and underneath the leather, its skin was an irritated red. He may have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't necessary that he bother everyone with valentines.

"It's meh job," it argued.

"Vine zen, but I von't hear it."

Ed slipped into his classroom and slammed his shoulder into the door, where the dwarf was pounding at it in a half-hearted attempt to get in. "Push zat over," the teacher said to one of the students. It might've been a fifth year; he couldn't quite remember. With one solid move, he pushed the back of the chair underneath the doorknob, firmly lodging it into place. The chair was now acting as a door jamb, except it was keeping the door shut rather than open.

"Sir?" someone said.

"Yes?"

"It's the end of class. We have to leave."

Ed felt his eye twitch. He forced the chair out from beneath the knob and the door immediately flung open, a very angry, very _pissed off_ dwarf on the other end. The two glared at each other and the Cupid look-alike opened his mouth to say something. It was at that moment that the class decided to forge ahead, effectively cutting him off and herding him somewhere in the bowels of the castle, leaving a grinning Amestrian behind.

"Beat zat, Lockhart," he said, the stupid grin stuck on his face. He turned around to reenter his classroom but stopped short once something caught his eye, opposite where the dwarf had been carried off. "_Schit_."

He dove into his room but they caught him by his ankles and dragged him away, as he screamed bloody murder. The students that remained stared, confused, as he was taken down the hall by the dwarves before continuing on with the school day. Those in his next class did nothing at all, and treated that class as a study period.

Ed couldn't be found for the rest of the day, and when asked later what had happened to him, he would twitch and mutter something about ripping Lockhart's head off before going off and sulking in the corner. Severus found it amusing and mentioned it several times to him before Ed transmuted his food into something fairly unpleasant. No one mentioned it again after that.

* * *

_The kindness must have been some sort of phase. Several months after he had been playing with the house-elf he had begun bossing them around, in a way that frightened Lucius. With each passing day, he began to resemble the demon more and more in attitude. He had asked if Envy had anything to do with it, but the demon only grinned back. When it believed he wasn't looking, Lucius saw its face fall into a frown. He believed that it was disappointed in Draco's change in behavior, if only for the nostalgia it brought._

* * *

_Next chapter: Guileless_

_A quick note: I put a poll up on my profile page for whatever you people want to see after Amaranthine is finished. But don't worry, that won't be for a while. About a year or so. And I am _extremely_ sorry for the lateness of this chapter.  
_

_Beta-ed by Pokeshadow55._

_Guest: ...Are you alright over there?_

_Guest: The plot has actually been quite affected, but I can't answer the first part of that question for plot-related reasons. The snake plays a minor role in Arc Two, but I'm still figuring out what to do with it later. Again, for plot-related reasons, I can't answer your question, but I will say that they meet up. Kinda, sorta. You're welcome._

_The OMG Cat: #1 - Thank you :D why 'Madame'?  
#2 - I wish it was. That would have been amusing.#3 - Yes. Bock. We need more alcohol, apparantly.  
_


	20. Guileless

A/N: I'll apologize again for shortness, but the next two chapters are the last of the arc (where'd the time go?) and absolutely cannot be split apart. So, hang in a little longer, and we'll get to the fun parts soon. Thanks to: Scaehime, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, MysteryRiddle, Kaite1211, demonicfate616, DulcieTheCat, MorteCacciatore, Allyieh, The OMG Cat, DemonRaily, XxsunrisebluesunsetxX, kimcat, Guest, ScarkitTheMadaNeko, septsunny, Guest, DreamweaverAki.

**Warning: Slight violence. Slightly slow chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 20: Guileless**

Guileless – adjective; free from guile, having sincerity or honesty

* * *

"_Winning children (who appear so guileless) are children who have discovered how effective charm and modesty and a delicately calculated spontaneity are in winning what they want."_

–_Thornton Wilder_

* * *

The snake had turned out to be a rather interesting conversationalist, once you got past the language barriers that had been easier to vault over than Ed had originally anticipated. It knew many different tales, most steeped in truth and facts. As for the situation the school was facing, it was familiar with the traits the attacker possessed: the seeming invisibility, Petrification, possible multi-century lifespan, the works. Whatever the creature was, Ed had no idea; he would have to find a picture or description of it before Ormr, the snake, could confirm the name. The two of them had decided on that name as it had none whatsoever, and he didn't want to keep referring to it as 'the snake'.

Ed groaned and threw the book he had been reading at the far wall. The snake unnecessarily ducked and looked at him, hissing in irritation. The blond mumbled an apology and rubbed at his face in similar annoyance, since they had gotten nowhere in their search. While no one else had been attacked, Ed was certain it was simply waiting for the right time to strike again. The only good that that had occurred as of late was the Mandrakes' slow but sure maturing; Pomona predicted that they would be ready for the potion by early June. Not soon enough, in his opinion, but it was certainly better than nothing at all.

Most of his free time had been dominated by the search. Why, he wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps it was the fact that he had an edge over everyone else, slight as it was; he had the barest of ideas as to what may have been skulking around, and with a stroke of luck, could determine what it was.

The Easter holidays had passed in a flurry of papers and sleepless nights; the sun had shined while he hung out in the dusty library, smuggling his new acquaintance in to help him as best as it could. Ormr couldn't read, by any means, but every detail helped. It was also rather reassuring to have the serpent around, since it could sense the presence of the attacker to a point, and could most definitely confirm that it was not around. Ed didn't know what would happen if he came to face it, but he knew he wouldn't end up dead. The Philosopher's Stone prevented that, at least, but he wasn't entirely sure where Petrification stood.

The blond groaned and resisted the urge to throw something. He was too busy to attend a Quidditch match, but Minerva and Severus had teamed up to drag him down to the pitch. As odd as it was, he still didn't want to be there and was doing what he could to keep them away without giving too much about the extent of his abilities away or harming anyone too much.

He had just found himself in the entrance hall and turned around, confused. Hadn't he just been on the fifth floor, by the Astronomy tower? The alchemist jumped when he heard a roaring voice echo from the ceiling.

"_And then I'll rip them apart! How do you like that, huh!?"_

"Professor, are you alright?" Ed turned towards the source of the voice, almost lashing out at it. He was glad he had restrained himself; it was Miss Weasley, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes. Ed paused and listened for anyone else, and only when he only heard the voices of those in the Great Hall and outside he spoke.

"I'm vine, Miss Veasley. I zought I heard somezink. Iv you, ah, see Provessors McGonagall or Snape, tell zem you did not see me." He started running when a banging noise came from the direction of the marble stairs. "Zank you!" he called, leaving behind a confused girl.

It would take a little longer, but he could get to the library fast enough. Just a little detour, was all. The sounds of the two confused teachers receded behind him and Ed wasn't above pumping one arm in triumph. With the victory in mind, he ran right into the wall, which brushed past him as he passed through. The hidden passage would end right next to the library, right into a false suit of armor that stood no more than five steps from the door.

Startling a harried first year as he exited from the passage, Ed turned on one heel and strode into the library, slowing his pace to a more accepted gait so he wouldn't be kicked out. He slowed down further once he came to the shelves dedicated to magical creatures; the library had a similar organization to the Dewey Decimal System, but it was still rather messy and left him both frustrated and wondering how Madame Pince knew where each and every volume belonged. He ran one finger along the spines, muttering to himself. He knew he had read a certain volume where it had mentioned a creature called a basilisk, but he had passed over the paragraph rather quickly, so the details were very hazy. Pausing at an older, untitled volume, Ed worked his jaw and slid it out, leaning against the bookshelf. He flipped through the pages with haste, stopping with a grin once he found the page he was looking for.

"_Basilisks: Of the many fearsome and deadly beasts that roam the surface of the Earth, there are none more curious nor terrifying than that of the basilisk, also titled as the King of Serpents. A basilisk, borne from a chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad, may live several hundreds of years and grow to epic proportions. Its methods of killing are unmatched, for aside of its acidic venom and serrated fangs, is its literal murderous stare. All who are affixed with the direct stare of this beast will suffer instantaneous death. Spiders openly flee from the basilisk, who is their mortal enemy, and the basilisk only retreats from the crowing of the rooster, whose call is fatal to it."_

He flipped the page and read on, ignoring the curious head that poked its way out of his sleeve to see what had captured the blonde's attention so thoroughly.

"_One of the basilisk's most curious faculties is that of its voluntary bodily compression. Of the few reliable recordings of basilisks, all confirm or make note of a form of bodily tightening to chase prey that have hidden themselves in tight niches. This natural skill has not been shown in any other known species, not in the grand degree the basilisk has been purported of performing."_

Ormr hissed something and Ed quietly corrected, "Zat says basilisk, not basilar."

So, it sounded like the monster he was looking for was a basilisk. Ed pounded his automail fist into his flesh hand, dizzying the snake which was still in his sleeve. The book was replaced and he left, quietly conversing with the serpent he was carrying around.

"Zee book says zat basilisks can travel zrough pipes. Vere d'you zink it's been hidink?" A stuttered answer came and Ed made a disgusted face. "I can't imagine zat," he commented, shuddering at the thought. "And perhaps zee plumbing is magic, like zee rescht ov zis place." He waved a hand through the air for emphasis, turning the corner as he did so. "A basilisk is razer vittink, actually; Slyzerin's symbol is zee snake. Makes sense zat he vould vant to schtay vizin his own schtyle."

There was a roar of anger and a scream of fright and Ed moved so fast he smacked into the edge of the wall, the snake barely missing it. He held his head for a moment as the pain subsided and backtracked to the source. He felt his small companion turn tail, moving up his sleeve and peeking out through his collar. He only hoped the little thing wouldn't be noticed, because he probably looked suspicious enough already, talking to thin air in an entirely different language so far as anyone else could tell. Adding a snake to the equation wouldn't give him any favor.

Minerva was shooing onlookers out of the library when he came by. The Amestrian hung at the edge of the crowd, unsure of how welcome he would be. She caught his eye and subtly shook her head, closing the door with a distraught Madame Pince over her shoulder. Ed cleared his throat, catching the attention of all the stragglers.

"Don't you all have somevere to be?" he asked, tone clear that unless they left, they would have something unpleasant to be doing.

They scattered like rats in all directions, and Ed could feel the snake on his shoulder vibrating with silent laughter.

* * *

"The match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall shouted, holding up a purple megaphone. Why she picked purple Ron had no idea; surely she could've picked a more interesting color, at the least. Like yellow or something. "All students are to make their ways back to their common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information."

Ron hurried as fast as he could off the bleachers, catching sight of McGonagall beckoning to Harry; he hurried over and caught the Transfiguration teacher say, "Yes, perhaps you'd better come along too, Weasley..."

He shared an alarmed look with Harry, who shrugged, eyes widened with alarm. Professor McGonagall led them up to the school, cutting a path through the grumbling and worrying students like... Like... If Ron knew the stories of Moses, he'd say like Moses did the Red Sea, but he knew nothing about religious references, so that analogy was left unused. They were lead up the marble stairs and the path became eerily familiar. If Ron didn't know any better, he'd say they were going to the library, but nothing could've happened to Hermione.

They passed by Ed, who was leaning by the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. He slid one hand up in a lazy salute to the older teacher, but his shaded eyes were on the two second years. Ron's eyes watered slightly as he tried to stare back without blinking, and the Alchemy teacher's lip curved into a half-smile. Harry looked between the two, somewhat confused. Something shifted by his neck and Ron nearly looked away, but was saved when some fifth years ran by and Ed turned his head away to track them as they passed. Ron took that quick moment to slip in unnoticed, taking the stare-down as a draw rather than a full out loss and dragging Harry in behind him. A quick glance back at the Alchemy professor showed something scaly burrowing back beneath the neck of his cloak.

"This will be a bit of a shock," Professor McGonagall said, voice soft and careful but still jolting Ron. He hadn't realized they were already deep within the library. "We haven't yet had time to move them to the infirmary, but we'll get them there soon."

It was like all his blood had turned to ice water. His feet moved without any direction from his thoughts, eyes locking onto the two girls that were trapped beneath a fallen bookshelf. Madame Pince was wringing her hands nervously, talking to Dumbledore in a low twitter.

"Would either of you recognize this?" McGonagall asked, holding out a small mirror. Both boys shook their heads and she put it away somewhere, looking sadly at the scene. "The bookshelves have been enchanted to remain upright, so they wouldn't fall on anyone. There were a surprising number of accidents when the school was founded, with bookshelves doing exactly this."

"Vyy don't you move it?" Ed asked, walking past the three of them. "It can't be zat hard. And you're doink more damage, leavink it zere. Any longer and vee might have some blood vlow problems."

He hooked his fingers underneath the top edge of one of the tall shelves, lifting it up and turning his palms so he pushed it upwards when it came to his shoulders. Steadying it with one hand, he lowered himself to the ground and pushed the fallen books off the two girls, revealing portions of their buried bodies. When he deemed them fine, the bookshelves were righted and he immediately went over to check on Hermione and the Ravenclaw girl Ron barely recognized through the haze his mind was left in.

"Zat vasn't so hard," the blond muttered, before calling to Dumbledore, "I zink zey're Petrivied."

Several hours later, Ron was sitting in the common room with Harry, blankly staring into the dying fire. Harry was finishing a paper for Potions class on wolfs bane, checking his book every other sentence. With a jolt, the redhead looked over.

"Did you see what he had on his shoulder?" Harry finished his sentence, mouthing the words as he wrote.

He threw his quill down and rubbed his eyes, asking, "What?"

"I think Ed's been attacking everyone." Slowly, Harry lowered his hands to his lap, looking at his friend with a critical eye.

"Why would you think that?"

"He's been at almost every attack: Mrs. Norris, Colin, Justin and the Bloody Baron, and now this! And the snake attacked him, _which he had with him today_!"

"Ron, Ed didn't find Colin. That was Professor McGonagall. And he didn't have a snake with him, either." The Weasley narrowed his eyes in heavy suspicion.

"I _saw_ it; it was the same snake. What if that's been the thing that's Petrifying everyone?" Harry snorted in laughter and Ron raised his voice. "Okay, it looks like a regular snake, but that's it! You wouldn't expect it to be it, but then _bam!-_ He gets you. And he was hanging around the library earlier, after the attack. That doesn't scream 'suspicious' at you?"

"Alright," Harry conceded, rolling up his homework. "How about I grab the Cloak and we go down to Ed's classroom and talk to him. Does that sound good?" Ron looked horrified, so that was a 'no'.

"Then he'd attack us! Maybe we should ask Hagrid for help, first. He'd never be able to match up with him!"

Harry shook his head in amusement and quietly ran upstairs to retrieve the Invisibility Cloak while Ron plotted out all the possible scenarios in his head. He winced each time the snake was brought out and they were all Petrified, but grinned whenever he saw them getting the upper hand on the Alchemy teacher and proving Ron right. Soon enough, almost too soon, Harry came back, mercurial cloak in hand. With practiced ease, it was thrown over the both of them and they exited the common room, carefully and quietly making their way to their teacher's classroom.

"It's locked," Harry hissed, rattling the door handle. Ron peeked up and down the halls for any teachers. "What's the spell Hermione used to unlock that door last year?"

"Huh?"

"The spell! The one Hermione used to unlock Fluffy's door!"

"I don't remember it," Ron said. "Wait–"

The two of them backed up, slowly, silently. There was a clacking, followed by a short click, and the door swung open on silent hinges. Ed exited into the hall, kicked the door shut with one foot –the action made the door echo strangely– and hurried past them, missing the two completely. They both released a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding and, wordlessly, followed after the man they'd trusted only a few months before, before the evidence had begun to stack up to reveal quite the unflattering picture.

Ed stopped fast-walking and broke into a full on sprint, as they neared the entrance hall. He continually disappeared as they ran, as the two boys couldn't run very fast while holding the Invisibility Cloak. It didn't help that Ed could run faster than anyone either of them knew, either. He disappeared at the stairs, and they only found where he went when they saw Snape looking outside, confused.

They hurried after, further baffling their Potions teacher, and saw the blond tearing up the grass to Hagrid's. Ron pushed the Invisibility Cloak off and ran after him, more certain than ever about his suspicions. He had the sense to wait for Harry by the circle of light circle of light around Hagrid's house, where they could see several figures moving around, one of them Ed. Unlike Ron, who was bent double at the waist, gasping for breath, their Alchemy professor wasn't winded at all. In fact, he was half-shouting and waving his arms around.

"–days, I'll vind it!" he was yelling. "I juscht need to vind vere it has been neschtink!"

"Edward," Dumbledore intoned gravely. The blond took no notice of him, continuing to ask for more time. The headmaster placed one wrinkled hand on the younger's shoulder and he stopped, glaring at the intruder. "Things will work out for the best. Those who ask for help at Hogwarts will always receive it."

Both the Ed and the person he was talking to looked confused, and Dumbledore strode past in his vermillion robes. He looked directly at the two boys, who were still hidden by the Cloak, but did not acknowledge or reprimand them. Hagrid came out of his hut moments later, extinguishing the light that had been blazing out onto the grounds, giving the scene a dreadful tone to it, and followed the headmaster in silence. The unknown man seemed hesitant but went after them as well, smelling of perspiration. Only Ed hung back, staring up into the sky at the waning moon, the lone, pale face shying away from the events that had just occurred.

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_It wasn't so hard for Envy to spy on people. It was one of its many advantages as a shape-shifter, the one that Lucius believed was its greatest ability. Not its apparent immortality, not its rapid regeneration, but its ability to morph himself into other shapes. After learning of the new teacher at Hogwarts, the demon insisted on watching him. It would have Lucius clear his schedule of all appointments, Apparate as close as possible to the school and become some sort of animal, usually a raven. Then, it would run or fly, depending on the form it chose, to the castle and watch the new teacher, although its reasons were as unknown as was most of its agenda._

_On Halloween night, in the year 1991, Envy took over and brought them to the school. It was less familiar with magic than Lucius was, and had greater difficulty controlling any spells and Disapparating, but still managed to Apparate into Hogsmeade. Once there, the demon brought them into the Hog's Head, the local bar. The place was almost empty, with just the old bartender and a single patron sitting at one of the tables, nursing a bottle of firewhiskey. The demon made them sit down at the table, making the man look up._

_Lucius remembered him; he was one of Draco's teachers, and was one of the men Envy tended to speak to. That is, if you could call making threats and cursing at him 'speaking'. The other man nodded, told the barkeep he was done for the night and left, the demon making them follow behind. The professor –Lucius couldn't remember his name– headed towards the castle, and once they were far enough, Envy changed them into a raven and flew ahead._

_They reached the front doors first and waited; once the other man had come by and entered the castle, the demon turned into the professor, careful to make it appear as though he was scared. He then ran inside the castle, barged in through the doors of the Great Hall in a shambling walk._

"_There's a troll in the dungeons. Just thought you ought to know."_

_The demon dropped them to the floor, making it appear as though they had fallen in a faint. Noise burst into life above them, scared chatter. The demon let the smallest of sadistic smiles creep onto its face as he heard Dumbledore take charge. Students marched past, then the teachers. Once the hall was silent, Envy stood up, dusted its 'robes' off and turned into a cat before exiting the way they had come in._

_It hadn't had this much fun in millennia._

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_Next chapter: Epitaph_

_Beta-ed by Pokeshadow55._

_The OMG Cat: #1 – I like the way you think. And thank you._

_#2 – Which is why we need more drunken basilisks._

_#3 – *Passes the firewhiskey*_

_Guest: If only you were. But I'm not there yet._

_Guest: No, it can't be that good. Nope. But thank you._


	21. Epitaph

A/N: Okay, let's see... They're gone. Everything that my computer decided to delete at once is gone for good. If the programs I used could bring stuff back from last October but not something I lost a week ago, then they must be gone. I'm not going to bother putting up a list, but I did lose several important things.

What I had written for Arc Three was deleted, so anything I might've mentioned to you people in PM's may not necessarily be true anymore. We'll have to see about that, but until then. And that brings me to the next point: I will rewrite Arc Three. I'm hoping it'll be better than the last, and you people can make me feel so guilty I can't bear to say no.

I have to ask all of you something. I had lists of words for upcoming chapters, as well as quotes that went along with them. If any of you have anything that you want me to use, then I will, as long as the word/quote hasn't been used before. I'll even accept quotes from fics, so long as you/I have the permission of the writer.

Also, this is the second-to-last chapter for this arc. One more after this, and then this'll be on hiatus as I rewrite Arc Three.

Thanks to: StorySongs, BlueRoseRabbit, TartKiwiFruit, Shirokama, InfinitelyBoredForTheMoment, KowboyKilla 187, XxsunrisebluesunsetxX, The OMG Cat, Sol Fox, Sokkasm, Review4U, Scaehime, Mcat9905, Adin Terim, vixxster2492, Guest, DulcieTheCat, Jo, SkarkitTheMadaNeko, APH1168kittens, Kaite1211, KuramasFoxyRose, Unyouthful Steve, demoncat22, auPHE, LdsPrincess, Pokeshadow55, Jazzhands, DragonAce1999, Bleachfan1015, Guest, Aragvor, DreamweaverAki, septsunny, Oneblackened, Bakaneko96, senpen baka.

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**Warning: Violence. Graphic scenes. Character death. If you are particularly sensitive, please skip this chapter. A synopsis will be provided for those that wish to skip.**

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**Chapter 21: Epitaph**

Epitaph – noun, verb (used with object); (noun) 1, a commemorative inscription on a tomb or mortuary monument about the person buried at that site; 2, a brief poem or other writing in praise of a deceased person; (verb) 3, to commemorate in or with an epitaph

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"_The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude."_

–_Thornton Wilder_

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He jogged through the high-grown grass, Fang trotting by his side. As well as the boarhound had taken to the alchemist, he still preferred his master over everyone else and spent the nights keening for the groundskeeper. Just as afraid as the dog was the majority of the school. Somehow word had spread about Hagrid being detained by the Minister and Dumbledore's temporary abdication as headmaster. The only good thing about the situation was that no one knew he had been arguing with Fudge, but many still pointed their fingers at him. It wasn't pleasant, to say the least, but he'd been through worse. This was just another brick in the wall.

Summer had begun to slide across the grounds, making everyone restless in their seats. More of his classes had been spent outside, both as a way to relieve their nervous tension, not to mention his own, and exercise Fang so he wouldn't be too out of it once Hagrid came back. There were no ifs about it; Hagrid was going to come back. He wouldn't allow himself to be pushed around by some pudgy man who couldn't decide between a red tie or the blue one; his pride wouldn't stand for it. And it would be rather pathetic, at that, if he couldn't defy the leader of a country. Or, rather, technical leader, since Fudge was only the Minister of Magic and not that of Britain as well.

Ed kicked at a rock embedded in the ground of the pitch and Fang skirted around it as it rolled through the grass. What good was he if he couldn't stop some freaking monster snake? He couldn't even find the damn thing and his plan was hinging on him finding where it was and killing it. If the snake was dead then people wouldn't have to worry anymore and he wouldn't have to deal with any more of this crap. As much as he would love to see how the wizards would deal with it, change of that scale doesn't happen in a generation. Not in this day and age.

Fang barked in happiness and looped around Ed, making him glad he didn't have the dog on a leash. The canine bounded over to Hagrid's hut and sat patiently by the door, waiting for him to open the door and let him back in to the house. Ed quickly complied and went back to the school, skillfully disregarding the looks he got from the students he passed by. After a quick attempted visit to the Hospital Wing and being turned down, he returned to his classroom and into his room. The snake was basking in the sun on top of his bed despite the windows being closed. The chair was pulled out and he sat down, seeing nothing as he stared at Ormr.

Pipes... They had something to do with it. The snake could move through the school's plumbing, so it had to go _somewhere_. Unbidden, the memory of Hermione after the failed potion had sprung to his mind. They had been brewing the concoction in the bathroom, not far from where Mrs. Norris had been tied up. And she had been the first victim of the basilisk. So there was someone that was controlling the snake, or it was somehow able to tie Mrs. Norris' tail to a torch bracket without fingers. Or hands, for that matter.

He closed his eyes and leaned back, deep in thought. He could always try Apparating into the Chamber of Secrets, if that was even where the basilisk was hiding out. Ed concentrated on the destination, frowning as he realized he had gone nowhere. He tried again, to no avail. One arm was swung around the back of the chair in irritation. So, he was limited to places he had already seen... Unlike the wizards and witches, who had the potential to Apparate anywhere _except_ places that were protected by spells. He returned his thoughts to the book he had found.

Another moment passed and Ed smacked himself in the face at his own stupidity. Of _course_ the basilisk was there. Not only were there a hell whole lot of pipes, it was also the closest room to where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. And, if _Hogwarts: A History_ was correct, then the female half of the population had been held in higher esteem than the male half, especially considering that the dorms were enchanted so that male students couldn't enter the girls' rooms.

"Come on," Ed said, picking the snake up.

It glared at him, annoyed that its nap had been disrupted, before settling itself comfortably in his sleeve as it had before. Ed stopped briefly in the classroom to lock up some papers in his desk. Just in case someone decided to take a peek at the answers to the finals while he was preoccupied. With almost all the students busy studying, the trip was smooth and quiet, free of spiteful glares. The only speech he heard was between him and Ormr, who mostly asked about where they were going and what they were doing.

"Vind vere zee basilisk is," Ed answered, pushing open the bathroom door, "and kill it iv it's zere."

The room was brightened by the mid-afternoon sun, the light moulded into the shape of the window as it struck the white marble tiled floors. A column in the center of the room stood just outside of the window's reach, but it didn't stop the mirrors from reflecting the clear blue skies outside or the lit candles hanging on the walls, burning ceaselessly for a room the living never used. Ed ignored the ebony-colored stalls to his left and walked up to the sinks, running his hands over the ivory porcelain and the noble plated faucets. The snake even slithered around, searching for anything that could help.

"What are you doing here?" a watery voice asked. Ed turned his head and saw a pale girl, her hair dark despite the lights in the room. She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose and smoother out her skirt, fidgeting nervously. "This is a girl's bathroom," she said, blushing slightly. Ed smiled warmly, realizing she was nervous.

"I know, but I'm lookink vor somezink, Miss...?"

"Myrtle." She looked down at her feet and blushed further. At least she wasn't being as forward as the older girls. "I can help. What are you looking for?"

"Anyzink zat has to do viz snakes."

"Like that one?" She was pointing at the snake he had brought with him, which looked up at them before falling off the edge of the sink it had been inspecting.

"Yes, but on zee valls, or on zee pipes or anyzink like zat."

"I remember seeing this big great snake once, years ago," Myrtle commented, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "I'd been in the stall because Olive Hornby was being mean again, calling me names and teasing me about my glasses. Someone came in, saying something funny; it was a boy talking, though, so I unlocked the door and tried to tell him to go and use the boys' toilets. But when I opened the door, there was this monstrous snake with really big, yellow eyes."

"Really? And you didn't have to go to zee Hoschpital Ving?"

"Huh? No, I died." Ed blinked and took another look at her. Now that he was _looking_ at her, he saw that she was transparent, and he could see one of the candles through her hair as she looked down again. "Sorry."

"Vat are you apologizink vor? You did nozink wrong."

She just shook her head while the snake hissed something behind him. There was a great shuddering, forcing Ed to catch himself. He looked to the Ormr, which had slithered over to him in haste, and saw the column of sinks had pushed itself outwards and had begun to shift downwards, forming a circular staircase that descended into the floor below.

"Zank you."

Ed tipped an imaginary hat at Myrtle, scooped up the snake and headed down the stairs, which happened to be steeper and longer than he had anticipated. After several minutes of walking around in slow circles, the stairs led off into a dusty and dark tunnel sporadically lit by magic torches. The flames were alternatively green and silver, likely set to match Slytherin's preferred colors. With a derisive snort from the human, they entered the sewer-like corridor, the alchemist's boots clacking against the stones below. He trailed one hand across the smooth wall, mentally mapping the area. The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, with two other tunnels leading off of it. Large gold plated braziers hung off the ceiling, holding large globules of fire that crackled with a twisted merriness that didn't belong this far underground. The metal warped the light of the flames and glinted off the chains of the braziers as Ed walked underneath them, heading straight for the gate at the other side.

Made out of granite, the gray wall was carved with images of snakes. They were wrapped around the borders, writhed in the background, and the largest pair was loosely intertwined in the center of the door, creating a large double helix with their bodies. The heads faced each other, fangs bared in silent fury. A pair of large cut emeralds was set into the eye sockets, and slips of ivory replaced their fangs. Ebony shards and emerald cuts overlapped one another, forming the bodies of the largest pair, locked in their eternal battle; in the firelight, their forms cruelly shone and gave the illusion of being real.

"Open."

The command was short, as was the reaction. The granite gate opened with haste to please, the stone grinding with an unpleasant soprano screech. Once they halted, Ed strode through with purpose, the snake comfortable wrapped around his neck with its head on his shoulder. The great chamber that the doors led to was also designed with the same snake motif, with large snakes twining around large pillars on either side of the room, their heads and the ceiling lost to the darkness above. The stands of the pillars sunk beneath pools of water that lined either side of the wide walkway, the water clearly reflecting the sparse fires in the brackish green gloom.

Ahead, at the end of the path, was a man carved directly out of the wall. Only his pallid, wrinkled face was visible, the neck set in shadow and the curve of the shoulders dipping below the surface of the liquid mirrors. The mouth was open, revealing a dark cavern inside, and a thick gray-green tongue hung out, ending on the end of the walkway. Ed came closer and realized that the tongue was not a tongue; it was a snake, a rotting basilisk.

Its scales were succumbing to rot and it gave off an unholy stench that would have made vultures flee in terror. Ed wrinkled his nose and braved the stink coming off the carcass to inspect it closer. The scales had paled from what was presumably a rich evergreen, now bordering on fern. The eyes, half-lidded, had turned black with from the pupils dilation, rendering the snake's killer gaze null.

Ed scratched at his head in confusion. If the snake was dead, long ago if he wasn't mistaken, then what had been attacking people? He nudged the beast's head with one foot, giving it a Glasgow smile, one fang poking out over its lip. The once-bright bone had dulled to a mellow shade, further convincing the Amestrian that the snake had been dead at least several months.

"AAAHHH!"

Ed looked over to where the gate still stood open, moving so fast his neck cracked with the speed, and found a person standing there. Shaking, terror-stricken and paralyzed into place was Ginny Weasley. She was slowly shaking her head, a movement that quickly sped up and sent her hair flying into a frenzy, hiding her face from view. Even from the great distance between them, he could clearly hear the crazed mutters flying from her lips. A leather book fell from her hands, falling, forgotten before it even fell to the floor. She turned around but another figure grabbed her arm and twisted it harshly. The loud _snap_ that followed surprised them both, enough that Ginny didn't feel the flare of pain that had set her nerves on fire. All she felt was cold dread, compounded by the new arrival. She was shoved aside into the back side of the gate, where she stared with wide eyes.

"It's been a while, hasn't it Fullmetal?" The figure lazily stepped forward, a stupid grin on their face. Envy swung its arms behind its head, walking with a lazy stride and itchy trigger fingers. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You used to be a State Alchemist, but here you are, some second-rate teacher in a _magic_ school."

The Homunculus shook its head in mock despair, clicking its tongue to emphasize its point. Ed poised his hands to clap but one of the sin's arms shot out with lightning speed and grasped his automail wrist, wrenching it away from his other hand so he couldn't transmute.

"Ah, ah, ah," it said, turning its own wrist one-eighty degrees and breaking the connections and wires in the metal joint, sending a spasm of pain through the blonde's shoulder that he managed to keep contained. "Aw, the pipsqueak's no fun," Envy sighed, resorting to its favorite taunt: insults about the alchemist's height.

Ed snarled at him and jabbed his elbow into the constricting arm, surprising Envy enough that the Homunculus didn't immediately notice the serpent that had crawled onto its arm. Fangs sank down into the soft flesh, sending ruby droplets into the air as the points broke the skin. Flashes of red flared to life as the Philosopher's Stone began neutralizing the poison as fast as it was discharged, swiftly depleting the snake's stores. Envy threw Ormr off its arm, causing more alchemical light as the holes in his skin healed, and it landed somewhere in the distance –it would kill the damn thing when it was done with the shorty– but reeled back as a fist crashed into its face.

While the snake distracted the Homunculus, Ed had taken the little time he had and repaired his arm with a burst of alchemy and ran up to the other being as it was waving its arm around and dislodging the snake from its precarious mount, raising his fist up just as the other looked up, turning a solid right hook into a cross, and the world slowed down for a moment. He could see Envy's face locked into a snarl, head turning from the blow and momentum lifting it into the air; then time sped up again and the sin flipped and skidded, feet on the ground and one hand keeping it from falling backwards.

It slid straight past Ginny, who was still frozen into place, though she was now very much feeling the pain of her broken arm, and cradled it close to her chest. She knew little about injuries or healing spells, but she could feel the white-hot pain that came from a broken radius and ulna, as well as a duller pain from a dislocated shoulder, pulled out of its socket when her attacker had crushed her forearm. She could feel the stranger's gaze snap to her and her subconscious made the connection before the rest of her could catch up, and she flung herself away from the gate without direction, instincts screaming at her to flee from the creature. Because nothing like _that_ could be human. An arm curled around her neck with an elasticity that no human arm possessed and dragged her backwards, allowing her feet to dig up small furrows of dust on the stone. She panicked and struggled but her efforts were in vain; she was an animal caught in the trap and there was no hope of escape.

"See this pretty little girl here?" the owner said, his voice sending cold shivers up her spine. Her arm throbbed as the other hand poked and prodded at it, testing its durability. "If you don't do exactly as I say, she's dead." For good measure, they grasped at her hand and pulled. _Hard_.

Ginny shrieked in pain and uselessly threw her weight around, desperate. Her captor smirked a sick, twisted grin, and slowly turned his arm, and the first-year's cries increased in volume. The Homunculus nearly forgot why it was standing there, torturing the girl with a one-handed snakebite, distracted as it was with her pain. When the stone fist smashed into it, Envy remembered and cursed itself for forgetting about the pipsqueak.

"That all you got?" it spat, calling on the Stone's power.

It was done playing games now, and its body stretched to disturbing proportions. Skin hardened and plated, bulging eyes rolled and fixed themselves on its enemy, and alabaster porcelain daggers burst from its mouth, leaving the nerves tingling. Without thinking, the Homunculus-now-basilisk lunged at the redhead, downing her like candy. The move was not regretted, although Envy did wish it had some more time to play.

Ed stared, horrified, as the girl was eaten. He closed his eyes and clapped his hands together again, pressing them into the stone floor. It rose in a wave and knocked the beast over, but it forced itself through the doors before he could make another move. He kept his eyes downcast, but that didn't keep them from drifting up to the lump that was now Ginny Weasley. He heard Envy hiss and the air whistled as it struck, but Ed was not without defense. Time was a cruel teacher, having the tendency to kill most of her students, but the lessons she parted with those that lived long enough were well learned. Ed stepped back, dodging the Homunculus' strike by a hair, and latched onto its head.

It swung upwards, launching him towards the ceiling. He barely kept his grip on the roof of the basilisk's mouth, and he braced his legs against its fangs. His automail foot slipped once, breaking the tooth off, but the Stone quickly repaired the damage. The snake thrashed much like Ginny had earlier, and it was all Ed could do to hold on. He gripped tighter and hooked his legs around the snake's fangs. With his hands momentarily freed, he quickly brought them together and touched the snake's skull.

With a silent shower, the great cranium burst in an explosion of pink brain matter, shards of bone and a surge of steaming blood. The serpent's mandible was left unharmed, save for the splatters of organics on it. Ed fell to the floor, landing heavily on his stomach. He grimaced but the fall did little more than bruise him, which were quickly healed without a second thought. The basilisk fell over as he stood, blood seeping from the giant hole, and Ed started hacking the body apart as fast as he could to try and get to Ginny. As the healing began, and overtook his attempts, Ed gave up on tearing through the basilisk and fell onto an older trick. He used alchemy again, but the snake began to dissolve. Muscles, scales, bones, nerves –all of it– seemed to dissipate into the air as molecular bonds were broken and the now-free elements were released into the air.

The chain of deconstruction spread quickly, as the healing moved at a comparably slow pace. While the Philosopher's Stone was busy repairing the head injury Envy had sustained, the rest of its body was being pulled apart on the atomic level. No doubt it was painful, but the Homunculi's brain hadn't finished repairing itself, so it was likely very little, if any, of the pain was felt. As the Homunculus' neck dispersed into the air, it revealed the broken and mangled for of Ginny. Ed cursed and kicked at the still-dissolving lower half of the basilisk in despair; it was too late to save her, Philosopher's Stone or not. While the Stone could be used as payment for her soul, it meant little when there was no body to inhabit it. And even the Stone couldn't create something out of nothing, despite the rumours that followed it.

The basilisk's venom and acidic saliva had burned away all her flesh and bone, leaving half-decomposed bones behind. There was nothing to say that the remains were once a little girl that had a family, a caring mother and father, and at least four protective older brothers... Ed shakily exhaled and kicked at Envy's head, making the sin gasp in sudden pain. He hadn't noticed, but he had aimed at the exposed nerve column that was almost finished rebuilding itself. He had failed another person, another family. And he wouldn't perform human transmutation. He'd already learned from past mistakes that attempts to bring back the dead were in vain, and any attempt to resurrect Ginny would result in horrible, terrible failure.

"_You damn bastard,"_ he said, speaking for the first time since the fight began. His voice sounded loud in the wide silence of the chamber, only punctuated by the spark and crackle of alchemy as Envy fixed itself. The noises increased in speed, as though it could sense what the Amestrian was thinking. _"You killed a little girl, one that was innocent. And now there's hell to be paid!"_ he yelled, stepping on the basilisk.

Another flash of alchemy and the cowardly sin was gone, scurrying away as fast as its little rat legs could take it. The change was so sudden that Ed didn't have time to react and stop it with either a spell or alchemy, though he would have gone for his arrays first. Alchemist first, wizard last. Realizing that Envy had escaped, Ed swore again and punched at the ground, tearing up his glove and cracking the stone beneath. A small plume of stone dust flew upwards, staining his glove and sleeve. He sunk to his knees and stayed there, time measured by the flames' guttering and slow deaths, much unlike the little girl that had been lost that day.

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The Great Hall rumbled with mutinous mutterings, students darkly looking to each other and glaring up at the aged teacher that was currently filling in for Dumbledore following his suspension by the school governors. Many suspected that Lucius Malfoy had been behind it, bribing and threatening others into submission, but as with many other happenings, there was no way to prove that the man had any hand in the affairs; nothing less than what was legal could ever be proven.

The dissent, however, was not a direct cause of such suspicions; no, they were because of Professor McGonagall's announcement that final exams were still going to be held. Despite the fact that a number of students were immobilized by an unknown attacker and had missed a large portion of the school year. Despite the fact that the Headmaster had been wrongfully deposed, as was common opinion. Despite the fact that one of the most competent teachers had gone missing as of yesterday, not that any of the students were aware of that fact.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible; and that includes finding out just how much you have learned and retained at the end of the school year."

No one pointed out that one of the teachers had gone missing. The grumbles and complaints did subside, however, as Minerva resumed her position next to the Headmaster's chair. None noticed the look she had sent towards the empty chairs, or saw the flash of concern that had passed through her eyes. She was concerned for the both of them, though she feared that the situation was worse than it had appeared.

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_Next chapter: Déjà vu_

_I'm offering the synopsis because sometimes I can scare myself with my thoughts. I will leave this as a T, but if ten-or-so people ask me to, I'll bump this up to an M. Yeah, hope you all liked the insight in my disturbing imagination._

_The OMG Cat: Unfortunately it is. But thank you, and my cousin has been far too busy the past week to help. Recuva didn't find anything, either. *Hugs*_

_Review4U: They're not here, they're not there, they're not anywhere. And it wouldn't be in the Recycle Bin because I ran CCleaner before I noticed they were gone._

_Guest: Relax, I said I would rewrite it. You're starting to scare me. And they are, so that makes this one of the bad stories._

_DulcieTheCat: It's not funny. My computer has a terrible sense of humour._

_Jo: Well I can tell you I'm rewriting them now. Though so far, my thoughts haven't changed._

_Jazzhands: Well then, let's see..._

_(Dis)Apparition: I'm well aware of that, but you forgot the house-elves. They can because they aren't human and use a different type of magic than humans do. And because Ed's (technically) a Philosopher's Stone he isn't bound by the protective spells._

_Overpowered: Well, I didn't write this in a way to make Ed seem cooler, and I have put limitations on a number of things. All his spells are inherently weaker than a regular wizard's/witch's, he cannot Apparate to a location he has never been to before, and his fighting skills are admittedly not up to par. I haven't given him a single scene where he practices fighting, and even that is still different from the real thing._

_So does that make this a flame or constructive criticism? I don't care; I'm asking out of curiosity._

_Guest: Do you feel better now?_

_Aragvor: I have tried Recuva but they're gone now. And stupidly enough, I put _everything else_ onto a pair of flashdrives but not any files that involved __Amaranthine__. So I feel pretty stupid right now._


	22. Déjà vu

A/N: As said, this is the last chapter for Arc Two: Envy. I will be going on to Arc Three, it's going to take some time, of course, but I hope to have the first draft done by Halloween. Maybe, maybe not. Synopsis, as promised, is included for those with weak stomachs. Thanks to: jupiterrocks24, , Summer's Vice, Oeve.

Reviews posted before chapter twenty-one was posted are thanked in the previous chapter.

Kudos to jupiterrocks24, who found the Pink Floyd reference: "This was just another brick in the wall." (Future references will not be noted or hinted at unless found. They're for both your and my amusement, when I get bored.)

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_Synopsis: Ed realized where the basilisk has been hiding and makes a visit to Myrtle's bathroom to find its lair. After talking with the resident ghost, he goes down into the Chamber only to find that the snake has been dead, for several months at the least. Ginny finds him down there and tried to run away, but is stopped by Envy, who followed _her_._

_After incapacitating her and a short fight with Ed, Envy changed into the basilisk and ate Ginny. Ed managed to 'kill' it, but was too late. Ed prepared to beat the Homunculus for killing her, but managed to escape by transforming into a rodent._

_Meanwhile, Minerva was calming the students following Dumbledore's temporary suspension by the school governors and that finals were to still to be held at the end of the year. No one but her seemed to be aware that more than Dumbledore was missing from the halls._

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**Warning: Dead people. Slight gore.**

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**Chapter 22: Déjà vu**

Déjà vu – noun; 1, _(Psychology)_ the illusion of having previously experienced something actually encountered for the first time; 2, disagreeable familiarity or sameness

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"_This was too much for him to handle. It was like watching memories of his life play out from a different camera angle, sometimes with new scenes added. He was living DVD extras."_

–_David Sharpe, "Destroyer of Worlds"_

* * *

Ed found Ormr curled up on itself, nursing an injury that had ripped a line of scales off its body. Without thinking, Ed placed his hands on the snake and red lightning covered its body, freezing it into place. When his hands were removed, the wound was gone, the scales regrown. It paused in astonishment, not even arguing when it was roughly picked up and stuffed in the blonde's hood.

With his hands free, he gathered as many pieces of Ginny's remains as he could, cradling them in one arm. His mind had turned off; all thought process had been disrupted, leaving nothing but a compelling static behind. If he couldn't think, he wouldn't remember. His body had gone on autopilot so he didn't have to deal with the anguish that came with another life lost, no matter his connection with the deceased.

It felt like an eternity and no time at all had passed when Ed stepped out of the Chamber of Secrets, back into the bathroom preferred by Myrtle, who was patiently waiting for his return. She screamed and blubbered once she saw the disfigured bones, but quickly calmed down soon enough when she saw that the teacher hadn't moved.

"Myrtle," he quietly said. "Can you clear out zee Hoschpital Ving? Only Madame Pomvrey schould be in zere."

The young girl hesitated before zooming out of there, passing through the stalls and the walls like they weren't there. Ed waited, counting the seconds as they passed. Distantly, he heard the stairs to the Chamber close up behind him, grating in that unique way only several hundred tons of stone could. Once he reached three hundred he Apparated.

Madame Pomfrey had seen strange things, yes indeed. As the school's nurse, she'd seen hexes, jinxes and curses, colds and sicknesses, failed Potions and Transfigurations like no one else. Yet one thin she hadn't until then was the ghost girl commonly known as 'Moaning Myrtle' coming into her wing, rapidly going on about some strange man she had seen in her bathroom with a bunch of bones in hand.

"Slow down, Myrtle, and say it again. What happened?" Myrtle took an unnecessary deep breath, since as a ghost, she didn't need to breathe, and tried again.

"Yesterday this guy came into the bathroom while I was in there. He was so tall–" she held up a hand somewhere above her head "–and had blond hair tied up in a braid. He was really nice, so I didn't tell him to leave. He said he was looking for something and when I asked, he said it had something to do with snakes, like the one he had with him. I told him about how I died, 'cause there was that big snake there." Madame Pomfrey nodded; she had heard the story before, but the staff then had never found the snake and Myrtle didn't remember what happened immediately after she had passed.

"Then his snake hissed at one of the mirrors and the column –the one with all those sinks on it– it started _moving_. It went down and the guy thanked me, took his snake and went down the stairs the sinks turned into. I didn't see him again for a while, but about an hour later, two girls came into the bathroom and went down there. One of them had red hair, the other one looked like her." Myrtle was pointing at Miss Granger, Poppy noticed. "She was a little taller, though, and her hair was shorter.

"They went down and I left for a while, I don't know how long. I came back and was thinking about going down after them since the stairs were still there, but the guy came up." Myrtle shuddered heavily, her whole form flickering. "He– he was carrying _bones_. And the two girls weren't with him. I got scared, but he told me to come here and clear the place out so no one else was here."

Poppy pursed her lips; the man she had described sounded a lot like Professor Elric, but she wasn't entirely sure. There weren't many people that wore their hair long and braided, let alone men, but it wouldn't take much for a skilled Transfigurist to make themselves look like the German teacher.

"Did he talk strange at all?"

"He had an accent, if that's what you mean..."

With a soft breeze, the very man they were talking about was standing in the middle of the long room. He trembled and fell over, scattering rocks as he fell. Madame Pomfrey's heart dropped when she realized Myrtle was not mistaken. Those rocks were in fact bones. A half-destroyed skull rolled across the floor, staring up at her accusingly. The empty sockets were hard to look away from, but with a painful effort, the nurse managed to do so. She pulled out her wand, ignoring the visible shake in her hand, and used a spell to gather all the ossein material which was deposited on a free bed. With some effort, she lifted the professor to his feet and steered him to another bed, away from the one she had just filled. With that taken care of, she had to notify the Deputy Headmistress.

"_Expecto Patronum_," she stammered, working hard to keep the image of the bones out of her mind. A golden mist shot out of her wand, reforming itself into a low-lying reptile. "Go find Minerva and tell her she is needed in the Hospital Wing. That it's urgent."

The crocodile took off, form dispersing back into mist before it had taken even five steps. She didn't need to look after it to know that it was hurrying off to fulfill her order, and instead returned to the distraught teacher. If she hadn't heard from Myrtle what she had seen, and if the idea wasn't so ridiculous, Poppy would have believed that Edward had been near a Dementor. Pale, clammy skin, she noted, grasping one of his hands. He was shaking with the effort of restraining himself, though she wasn't sure if he was keeping himself from attacking her or from breaking down. There was also grime on his face and clothes, the latter of which was ripped in several places, though she didn't see any injuries. Madame Pomfrey simply left a chunk of milk chocolate on the nightstand, which went ignored, hoping that the answers would soon be forthcoming. And that they weren't as terrible as she imagined, looking towards the bones.

Myrtle watched on silently, concerned. She could tell that wasn't the man who had spoken to her so kindly, or thanked her with a cheeky grin before he descended into this hell. There was nothing she could do now, for this person she hardly knew. She floated over to his bed and mimed sitting down, floating on top of the sheets, remaining silent. Neither noticed Madame Pomfrey going to the door where she spoke to Professor McGonagall in low tones.

Ed began to force himself back together. Myrtle helped a little, just by sitting there next to him. She reminded him a little bit of his brother, that pillar of silent support he had been before moving on. Ed quietly laughed at the thought, how ironic it was, considering the situation. If Myrtle noticed at all, she said nothing, keeping her silence. Good; he wasn't sure he could take it if she did.

"Edward?" He sighed; he had thought too soon. Both he and Myrtle looked over to Madame Pomfrey, who had spoken. "Minerva needs to know what had happened."

He cast a disinterested eye over the two women and he felt tired. Bone deep tired. He was simply exhausted, in a way he hadn't felt in some time. Not for the first time, he wished he could die and get everything over with. But life wasn't so simple, and circumstances held him to the plane of the living. Plus he wasn't exactly eager to see the Truth's smug face. He let his gaze drop and saw the skull, which had been turned towards the wall. He owed it to Ginny's family to stay a little longer, at least explain what had happened.

"Zere..." He swallowed, throat dry, wiped at his face with a sleeve, and tried again. "Zere vas a chamber beneas zee school; zee Chamber ov Secrets. I zought zat zee zing zat had been attackink zee students vas a basilisk. Zere vas one down zere but it vas dead. I don't know how long, but it vas devinitely dead." Ed closed his eyes and leaned back, lying down on the bed, covering his eyes with one hand. "Miss Veasley came down as I vas inspectink zee Chamber. Sche screamed; I'm not sure vyy. But ven I looked at her, Envy vas zere."

"Envy?"

"It grabbed her," the blond continued, not noticing Minerva's question, "and broke her arm bevore shovink her into zee gate. It talked a little and broke my wrischt–" he waved his free hand for emphasis, "–but I surprised it, healed my arm and vee schtarted vightink. I knocked it back into zee tunnels and he grabbed Ginny and pulled on her arm, tryink to use her as leverage againscht me.

"I used alchemy to dischtract it but zen it turned into a basilisk." Minerva and Poppy looked at each other, both beginning to think that the Alchemy professor had lost his marbles. "It ate Ginny." He swallowed again and tried to force the image from his mind; that of the swell in the basilisk's throat...

"I got on top of it and blew its head up, and avter, vell, tried to vind her and see iv sche vas schtill alive. Zat is all zat vas levt ov her." He pointed at the pile of remains on the other bed and he could have sworn he heard Minerva swear, almost as an afterthought. "I got pi– very angry and tried to kill Envy, but it changed itselv into a small mammal and escaped. I– I schtayed down zere vor some time. I couldn't go back up, until I vas sure zat I had gotten all zat remained of zee little girl."

Silence reigned in the Hospital Wing for several more moments as all four of them paid their respects to the spitfire girl. It was Minerva who spoke first, breaking the charged atmosphere.

"Can you show us where this 'Chamber of Secrets' is?"

Ed unwillingly swung himself off the bed, careful not to accidentally pass through Myrtle. With uneven steps, he led them all to the bathroom Myrtle commonly haunted and choked out the command to open the door. The snake in his hood had been silent, contemplating something he could only guess at. His legs felt like jelly as he traversed the stairs and the tunnels, coming to the main chamber.

All the blood and gore that had been thrown during the fight was gone now, due to Envy being a Homunculus. Bodily fluids, organs, bones and products would not exist very long outside their bodies, deconstructing themselves as soon as it was spilt. Despite that, there was still evidence of the fight. Burn marks and warped stone signified the alchemy Ed used to attack the sin and hadn't properly transmuted back. There were cracks in the ground, the largest of which having come from Envy's basilisk form hitting the ground. Minerva looked around with something between revulsion and amazement before settling her eyes on the basilisk. She shook her head and muttered to herself. Poppy had voted to stay behind, claiming she didn't feel she had the stomach to see the Chamber.

"I'll have to notify the family," Minerva said, voice small and echoing in the empty space. Ed only nodded, not quite seeing her. "They'll he told of your involvement in the matter."

"You make it sound like I killed her," he quietly replied.

"They'll just know that you had tried to save her, but the basilisk was too quick." Minerva stepped closer to him, one hand raised in a comforting gesture, but she dropped it and walked past. "It wasn't your fault," she reassured before she reentered the tunnels.

Ed stood there, looking at the Chamber of Secrets. He knelt down, clapping his hands together, and restored the floor to its appearance before the fight. With the Homunculus' traces erased, he left, but not before sealing the snake gate with alchemy. Those emerald eyes stared at him as he left, twinkling gently in the firelight, as the alchemist left another bloody chapter of his life behind him.

* * *

Dumbledore clasped his hands beneath his crooked nose, staring down his Deputy Headmistress with a grave gravity that was opposite his usual demeanor. Next to her stood the Alchemy professor, looking off to the Headmaster's left. He hadn't looked him in the eye once since entering his office, taking greater interest in his surroundings and in Fawkes, who was in adulthood again. The phoenix had taken a great liking to the blond, rubbing his head against his hand and purring in that manner unique to the fiery bird.

"You mean to tell me," he said through the soft whirrs and clanks of the various gadgets he kept in his room, "that a shape-shifting creature had entered the school and killed one of the students."

"Yes," Edward answered, still not looking at him.

"How do you know of this being?" The blond hesitated before he spoke.

"I'd met it bevore."

"How?" There was a long pause, enough so that Minerva stared at him in impatience.

"It vas a relative ov one ov my vazer's vormer colleagues and hadn't taken a linking to me or my vazer."

"Then why do you call him or her an 'it'?"

"Because zat's vat it is," he said in exasperation. "He made it viz alchemy, out ov his own being. So it vas schtill related to him, in a vay."

"And what would this artificial being be called?" Edward's lip twitched as he realized he had been backed into a corner. Albus hid his amusement with his curiosity, pressing for an answer.

"A Homunculus."

"Like the person that Professor Quirrel had spoken of the year before?" Another twitch of the lips.

"Yes, I vould believe so."

"Are there more beings like this 'Envy'?"

"I do not know. Zere vere ozers, once, but zey had been killed. I believed Envy vas dead, as vell. Clearly I vas wrong." Ed crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back, giving the impression he was propped against an invisible wall. "I do not know vat it vants at zee school, nor vyy it vould vant zee Sorcerer's Schtone, _iv_ zat vas Envy Quirrel had been collaboratink viz."

"Are there any limits to Envy's capabilities?"

"It can't change itselv into anyzink heavier zan its true vorm." He grimaced, adding, "Vich happens to be zee heaviest zing I have ever had zee misvortune ov meetink. It can turn into people or animals, and change its limbs into veapons and become inanimate objects. I heard vrom someone zat it turned its hand into a gun once and schot it." He shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the magic users' silent, abject terror.

The abilities that Edward had described almost matched up with the capabilities of the Polyjuice Potion. Meaning that Envy was the perfect candidate for a spying position, under someone like, say, _Voldemort_. It was as though the old Headmaster's worst fears had become reality, though he did well to stuff it back into its cage and act as though he hadn't lost the key.

"I see. We will discuss this matter at another time. Minerva, will you assist me in calling Molly and Arthur? I'm sure they would want to know what has happened to their daughter as soon as possible."

The last of his Alchemy professor Dumbledore saw that day was of him slinking out of the office, one hand beneath his jacket. It looked like he was gripping at something beneath his shirt, but now was not the time to dwell on that. He was to be the one to inform yet another mother and father of their child's unfortunate death. Albus sighed; he thought that role was over many years ago.

* * *

Ed had locked himself in his room, sitting on his bed. In the Great Hall, the students and faculty were having the last meal of the year, paying their respects to the deceased first-year. He remembered seeing Miss Weasley as she cried, her husband holding her close, but not above shedding a few tears of his own that he hadn't bothered to wipe away. What was worse was when Molly, Ginny's mother, told her that it wasn't his fault that her daughter had been killed, that he had tried his best to save her.

He tightened his fist, pulling up the once-neat bed sheets and blankets. He _should_ have tried harder. But he hadn't and now the girl was dead. As far as anyone could tell, she had passed on, but Ed thought he saw a little girl spying on him around the corners or through the occasional window. Every time he looked, there was no one there. He sighed and smoothed out the sheets again and looked outside.

Tide and time stop for no man, as the saying goes. He would remember her, but there was no bringing her back. So he might as well get over it. Live for her, as he does for his brother. With that thought in mind, Ed finished packing up his things and found the snake he had taken in sleeping on his desk. He prodded it awake and it stared up at him.

"Do you vant to go home, now? Had enough excitement viz me?"

Ormr laughed in its tinny voice, telling Ed all that he needed to know. It went back to sleep and the blond followed suit, as he wasn't able to leave until tomorrow, on the last day of term, when the students would be boarding the Hogwarts Express until September rolled around again. Perhaps he had failed this time, but Ed was sure to get Envy the next time. And he wouldn't let go until he was sure the Homunculus and any others it might have created were dead, gone from the world for good.

* * *

_Two Days Ago_

'_He looks just like his son,'_ Harry thought. Coming from what he had earlier learned was the Headmaster's office was Malfoy's father. The man wielded a snake-headed walking stick that clacked with an imposing sound, reminding the boy of a whip. He had heard the conversation between Dumbledore and Mr. Malfoy, since the Headmaster had called him up to his office with Ron, Fred, George and Percy. They had been confused at first, but when they heard that Ginny was... Was...

Harry shuddered at the thought and Mr. Malfoy looked at him before walking past. Harry fingered the journal that had been on Dumbledore's desk. He had said Ginny dropped it in the Chamber. He looked up and saw Dobby nervously trailing behind his master, flinching every time the cane came down. At least there was one being Harry could save. Harry shucked his shoe off as fast as he could, forced his sock off and replaced the sneaker. He ran to the older wizard, stuffing the sock into the journal as quickly as he could.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry called, holding the journal up. "Here, I think you forgot this."

The pure-blood took the journal and made a face as he opened it up to the sock, not speaking a word as he threw it behind him. Dobby jumped into the air, caught it and Lucius realized his mistake a second too late. He stood where he was before hissing something under his breath and stalking off, leaving what remained of his dignity intact.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby," the house-elf said, gazing up at him in amazement. "Dobby is now in Harry Potter's debt," he added, bowing low.

"No, Dobby, it's fine," Harry interjected nervously. "You don't owe me anything."

"Harry Potter is so noble," he cried. "Dobby will never forget what Harry Potter has done for Dobby!"

With a loud crack and a sob, the strange house-elf disappeared to who knows where. Harry shook his head, muttered something about nutters, and went down to the Hospital Wing, where Hermione was likely being woken up by Madame Pomfrey. She would probably want to know what had happened to Ginny sooner rather than later.

* * *

_The demon took over again and moved their body into his study. He searched the bookshelf and grinned once he found what he was looking for. The demon, still in control, gripped the faded journal tightly as the charm activated. They were pulled out of Malfoy Manor. There were dangers involved in this, but none that he couldn't handle. The world darkened and he felt a pressure in his mid-section as he was forcibly teleported out of his home, but it subsided as he found himself in another room. Ignoring the girls' possessions, the demon changed their form into that of a fly and escaped the room._

_It wasn't long after that they were traveling through the castle by surprising means: the plumbing. How the demon knew that a basilisk could fit in those tiny pipes, Lucius didn't want to know. It wasn't as though he could ask, either. His stomach pitched as they dropped, coming out of what he feared was a toilet. The demon didn't dwell on their exit; it moved them out into the hall, grinning as it found a target. Some nervous boy was talking to a ghost, stammering on about his next class. Envy rushed their serpent form towards them, lifting their head up to strike._

_Both ghost and human turned towards them and they began to convulse. Envy snapped its jaw shut in disappointment; it was the same as before, since the stupid kid had been protected by the ghost. And the ghost was already dead, so it couldn't die again. He eyed the spectral being for a moment, likely debating on taking its soul, but ultimately decided to leave. The excuse it gave was that they wouldn't have enough time. Lucius rolled his eyes from inside the demon's den. Envy could change them into another form and he could Apparate them out of there. Why it preferred the journal, he didn't know._

_It wasn't even in a language Lucius could read._

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_End of Arc Two: Envy_


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